


Codes of Courtship

by elusivelover_archivist



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Falling In Love, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-01
Updated: 2001-06-01
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elusivelover_archivist/pseuds/elusivelover_archivist
Summary: By Keren GlassWhen Han discovers what he truly wants, in the middle of a dangerous mission, it's already too late – or is it?





	Codes of Courtship

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Cara Loup, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Elusive Lover](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Elusive_Lover_\(Star_Wars_archive\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Elusive Lover’s collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ElusiveLover).

He was alone.

In the presence of his closest friend and closer to him than they’d been in months, Luke suddenly felt an unwarranted sense of solitude press in on him. Tedious months of emergency missions, strategy meetings and hurried research were finally taking their toll, he guessed. It had been too long since he’d been able to relax in the company of someone he could trust.

He looked up at Han, beside him on the broad couch, gorgeous and about to get slightly drunk. His thick, dark hair fell into his face, his eyes were bright with agitation as he talked, a fierce spark of passion shining from hazel depths. Luke couldn’t imagine how anyone managed to stay unaffected by the Corellian’s physical presence. While the lean body was slouched with a lazy kind of elegance, strong hands moved through eloquent gestures, and every once in a while, Han raked his fingers through his outgrown hair. Touch burned on Luke’s fingertips and paralyzed him as he listened.

Not that Han would notice. He was talking about Leia, winding his way through repetitive arguments in his attempt to figure out what exactly had gone wrong. Different backgrounds and different plans for the future had started the first fissures in their relationship, and with every new disagreement they’d drifted further apart.

“We were talkin’ all the time,” Han said, tossing off his drink, “but never really seemed to get through. She doesn’t see my point, I don’t see hers.” He set the empty glass down, contemplating it with a hard expression. “Goes to show romance only looks good from the outside.”

The sarcasm stung, and Luke shook his head. “It’s what you feel that matters.”

“Oh yeah?” Han bounced to his feet and prowled to the large window that offered a spleendidly illuminated view across Coruscant’s inner city. “Then why don’t you tell me how I feel? I sure don’t know anymore.”

Although it had probably been intended as a rhetorical question, Luke considered his answer carefully. Han and Leia cared deeply for each other, he was sure of that, but the combined pressures of reorganizing their lives and contributing to the reconstruction of the Republic had come between them.

“You’re confused,” he said slowly, almost wincing when he heard himself spout such platitudes. Han responded only with a snort. “You’re used to being in control of your life,” Luke tried again, “but now you’re forced to deal with a lot of public attention, new duties, and Leia’s responsibilities on top of it all. It was bound to create some difficulties, but—”

“Yeah, I know all that,” Han said abrasively. “And it amounts to something pretty simple. It just ain’t working. We never should’ve taken things that far.”

“Come on,” Luke protested, “how can you say that?”

Before his mind’s eye rose the memory of their last night on Endor, softened by a haze of firelight. Leia’s loose hair rippling across the muscular arm that circled her shoulders, the glow in her eyes when she looked up at Han...

For a moment, Luke relived the sense of achievement and relief he’d felt that night. No matter how much he’d lost, the sacrifices they’d all made had been worth it.

“You’re angry and disappointed now,” he said quietly, “but try to focus on the good times. What you had in the beginning.”

“Like what? Sex?” Han gave a rough chuckle and kept staring out at the nocturnal cityscape.

It was very much in character, Luke thought, that Han should interpret his words that way. He was a man who radiated sensuality, who thought with his body to a degree that was fascinating for someone who’d had to train hard to achieve a similar degree of balance and attunement. Han’s body language was naturally eloquent, his own, Luke had often thought, barely literate by comparison. And even though a lot of people seemed to consider him attractive these days, he could still see the farmboy who’d never looked his age whenever he studied his own reflection. Scrawny, awkward and not always entirely comfortable inside his own skin.

“You’ll be surprised to hear this from me,” Han said into the pause, “but sex doesn’t work all that well when nothing else is right anymore.”

“I don’t think I want to hear this,” Luke said sharply. Though he wished he’d caught them back, the words were out now.

Han turned slowly. “I’m sorry, Luke.” He raised a hand and let it sink again with an awkward shrug. “Didn’t mean to spoil your evening by going on and on about my private troubles.”

“If it matters to you, it matters to me,” Luke said, the moment of uneasiness already past. Perhaps it was true that Han and Leia had had little in common to begin with, but they would make up eventually. This separation had to be temporary, a problem waiting to be solved.

“Same here,” Han returned, a tentative grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “Not that I’ve given you much opportunity to cry on my shoulder so far.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you up on it at the first opportunity,” Luke said in an offhanded tone while he tried to disregard the irony in that offer.

“That’ll be the day.” Han shrugged again and cast a sidelong glance at the city outside. “It’s just that I wish I’d done better. Maybe I should’ve seen it coming...”

It struck Luke as odd that Han should be blaming himself sooner than circumstance. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “It really isn’t.”

But before he could elaborate, Han slanted him a hard look. “How do you know?” he snapped. “I should’ve known better, I...” Trailing off, he leaned back against the window, and the harsh edge had faded from his tone when he continued. “Well, no point going over this one more time. Now that I’ve gotten it off my chest, let’s talk about something else.” He glanced around the neatness of Luke’s apartment and at the same time seemed to shrug off everything they’d discussed before. “Nice place you’ve got here, by the way.”

Luke took a moment to catch up with Han’s mercurial mood swing. “I don’t spend much time here,” he said, looking around as if for the first time. “But it’s okay, I guess.”

“No plans for settling down anywhere?” Han returned to his seat and reached to refill their glasses with the same motion. “It’s official now, you know. Most of the Imperials’ve gone underground, and we can get back to our own lives.” He raised his own glass in a mock salute. “To galactic peace. Let’s hope it lasts another week.”

“Longer, I hope.” Luke took a sip of the highly prized Corellian brandy Han had brought along.

“What’s that rumor I keep hearing about the Jedi school you’re gonna set up on Dagobah?” Han asked.

Luke shook his head. “And it’s all over Coruscant, I take it?”

“Yep. You’re raising funds for a Jedi school and a Yoda monument. Came up right after the news about my nomination for the Corellian senate.”

“That’s one I hadn’t heard before.” Luke chuckled. “Why don’t the newspeople ever ask us before they spread their stories?”

“I keep telling ‘em that, but nobody listens.” With a sarcastic little grin, Han downed the rest of his drink. “Anyway, it’s a big galaxy, and you might hit on a much nicer place than Dagobah yet. Go for the big tour and take a vacation while you’re at it.”

Luke shrugged and felt the stiffness in his shoulders. He’d only arrived this morning, and after the obligatory string of briefings and half-formal meetings with the president’s inner circle, weariness clung to him. “I’d like that, but now’s not a really good time...”

“I mean it,” Han insisted in a quite different tone. “Remember to recharge your batteries every once in a while. You can be everybody’s hero eight days a week, but you need a break from it too. From all I hear, you’re not giving yourself much of that.”

“Old habits die hard,” Luke quoted the first hackneyed saw that came to mind.

“And there’s some habits that’ll get you into withdrawal, ‘cause they grow on you more than what’s good for you.” Han leaned forward, hands on his thighs as if he were about to get up, but his eyes searched Luke with close attention. “One of these days, you’ll have to tell me about your real plans.” He paused, and there was a moment of odd silence. “You’re right, this isn’t the old days anymore, and sometimes I wish to hell it was.”

“Talk of bad habits...” Having caught himself at similar thoughts on occasion, Luke grinned ruefully. “You really want to go back to living with a price on your head?”

Han returned the grin with a certain amount of skepticism. “’Least we didn’t spend half our time together at state functions, palling up to people who’d kick us off their doorsteps if we didn’t happen to be newly minted celebrities.” He pushed up, fishing for his jacket. “It’s gettin’ late, and I’ve kept you up longer than I should’ve.”

“That’s okay.” Luke felt the faint buzz of alcohol in his veins as he got to his feet. “I can sleep in tomorrow, if I want to.”

When he saw Han to the door, he realized that the feeling of loneliness had evaporated over the past minutes. He’d entered a state of lightheaded relaxation as if his body had lagged behind and had only just recognized this place as home. At least for a while.

“Been good to see you.” Han turned back from the door. “We still haven’t gotten around to the tour of Corellia I promised you. Gotta make time for that too.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He looked at Han a moment longer, recalling just how often he’d wished for Han’s presence in the past months, for some shared lighter moments and Han’s way of cutting every political convolution back to essentials. There was a rare softness in the hazel eyes now that might be concern.

“Whenever you can get away,” Luke added. It occurred to him then that making claims on Han’s time before he and Leia had made up was hardly a bright idea.

“Yeah, I can,” Han said. “You bet.”

Before Luke could react, Han had grabbed him around the neck and brushed his mouth over Luke’s, the brief contact so gentle it was almost a request. And it stunned him completely.

“Han,” he murmured while his breath caught in his chest and his mind presented him with several hundred reasons to step away instead of moving closer. But his arms went around the Corellian’s waist and his mouth found Han’s before rationality could break the impulse. This time, the mere suggestion of a kiss turned into something real and involved.

Reaching a hand to Han’s neck, Luke pulled him closer and savored the melting warm pressure of Han’s mouth against his own. When Han’s tongue slid across his lips and teeth, dipping briefly into his mouth, Luke’s breath rushed up in a gasp.

They moved apart in something like startlement. For a moment longer, Han’s fingers framed his face, but whatever he caught in Luke’s eyes prompted him to let go.

“Get a rest now,” he said with the hint of a grin shadowing his mouth, as ambiguous as it could get. “G’night.”

Long after the door had closed behind him, Luke still sat in the living area, outside a circle of dimmed lighting.

It had been the drink, Han’s distraught state over Leia, the sense of closeness between them, the Corellian penchant to translate every sentiment into something physical — a combination of all these things. As he thought about it, Luke couldn’t remember what his own reactions had been or how he’d answered Han’s casual goodbye, couldn’t imagine what kind of feeling Han had read on his face. But the tightness that sat high in his chest still lingered, mixing with a pleasant, heated tingle that kept haunting the pit of his stomach.

Luke ordered himself towards the shower. So he’d responded to Han with more than friendly warmth — at a rough guess, he shared that susceptibility to Corellian charm with a good sixty percent of the former Rebel Alliance. _It doesn’t prove anything_ , Luke told himself. _I’m over it, just not... entirely immune_.

Later, when he stretched out on his unfamiliar bed, he’d already made up his mind to remember the incident for what it had been. A momentary mood, isolated from all the other facets that made up their lives and their friendship. Whatever it meant, it had no bearing on Han’s relationship with Leia. His reasoning ground to a halt there and eventually let him slide into dreamless sleep.

* * *

“She’s wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s so full of energy. Hot like a photon torpedo, great sense of humor...” He paused, eyes following the colored beam of light that roamed the ceiling of _Algo’s Den_ before sweeping across the booths at the back. By the bar, someone turned up the music. “And man, she’s got style!” Lando sat back and gestured helplessly. “What can I tell you?”

“Her name, for a start.” From across the table, Han grinned at him. The jaded smuggler’s grin he used to camouflage private thoughts looked a little stretched and tired, Lando thought.

“You realize you’ve been raving about your latest flame for... I don’t know, the past three drinks?” Han continued, leaning forward. “And I sure couldn’t spot that knockout creature in the streets, ‘cause you’ve never even mentioned the color of her hair...”

“Really?” Calrissian shook his head and smiled sheepishly.

“You’ve got it bad, Lando.” Han reached for his glass, noticed that it was empty and set it back down. “Does wonder woman even know you’re alive? Have you taken her out or something? Any sign she’s interested?”

“Oh, she’s just not letting on how irresistible she finds me,” Lando returned breezily. He was starting to feel defensive under Han’s cool, amused gaze. A moment longer, and he wilted. “Hey, she’s a woman who likes to be courted. Not the type who’s easily swept off her feet...” He shrugged. “Yeah, we went out a few times, just having a good time together, like friends.”

Han cocked his head, studying him with a mixture of mockery and solicitude. “What’s this — you tellin’ me you’re in love with her?”

“I, uh...” Annoyed at his own witless blustering, Lando raised both hands in surrender. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

It surprised him to see a change steal over Han’s expression, the glitter of ironic humor fading from his eyes. “How d’you know it’s not just ‘cause she’s playing hard to get... ‘cause she makes you work for it?”

“Are we talking about Leia now?” Lando asked cautiously. Business had kept him off Coruscant for a while, and the failed relationship wasn’t exactly the latest news anymore, but gushing with maudlin sentiments was hardly tactful under the circumstances. Han didn’t look heartbroken though, just a little frayed around the edges, Lando decided. Tension simmered under all his relaxed behavior.

Han shook his head. “That’s over and done with. I was just wonderin’, that’s all.”

The remark piqued Lando’s curiosity. “You don’t mean to tell me you’ve never been in love?”

An edgy shrug was all he received for an answer.

Grunting noncommittally, Lando bought himself time by taking a long sip from his glass. Over its rim, he studied his friend’s posture. Arms crossed before him, Han Solo wore the puzzled look of a man who’d dropped out of lightspeed only to find himself stranded in an uncharted pocket of the galaxy.

“I seem to recall a time when you had your eyes on Leia like a tractor beam,” Lando said eventually.

“Yeah, sure, but...” Han’s expression softened somewhat as he shook his head. “Look, I admired her, even though she annoyed the hell out of me most of the time... and, hell, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with her, given half a chance.”

“That hardly covers it all,” Calrissian said with confidence.

“’Course it doesn’t,” Han conceded grimly. “Once we got past the sparring part, I cared a great deal for her. Still do. She’s special. But—” He trailed off, pushing his fingers through his hair. “She thinks I’m not... capable of that kind of feeling, I guess.” The words were barely out when Han grimaced and looked as if he’d happily pay hard credits to cancel what he’d just said. “Forget it,” he added curtly.

“Wait a second, old buddy...” All those years that he’d known the guy, and Lando couldn’t remember a single conversation quite like this. Not with Han Solo who based most decisions on a gut feeling and from there went straight into decisive action. Who considered ponderous soul-searching a spectacular waste of time.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Lando asked.

While the set of Han’s mouth and jaw revealed nothing but tense control, there was something wayward in his shadowed eyes. A look of incomprehension and need.

“I don’t know...” Han waved a hand and rolled his eyes angrily. “C’mon, you know what it’s like... with the life you ‘n I used to lead, there’s no time for growing attachments. Much less romantic attachments.” He shrugged. “What is it that makes the difference?”

Lando took another sip of the deep blue fruit cocktail from an Aqualish frontier world, letting its mixed aroma bud on his tongue. How did you describe the feeling of falling so hard that recovery seemed impossible, and life bounced you back and forth between the blackest despair and ecstatic hopes?

“The difference,” he started, “is the way it makes you feel. Like you’re no longer in control of your own mind. You spend a lot of time fantasizing, but when you get close to that person, you suddenly can’t think of a thing to say. Your throat’s closing up, your knees go weak, your hands and feet seem too big all at once... You turn hot and cold, can’t sleep at nights—”

“Sounds like a beginning cabin fever combined with some major coordination problems,” Han cut in skeptically.

Lando chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. But there are some rewards to it... Those special moments when your eyes meet, and it’s as if there’s no one else in the whole universe. When the smalllest touch can electrify you, and the whole world suddenly looks radiant.”

Some of it had to be familiar, as Han glanced aside quickly, an awkward look taking hold of his face.

“Lots of things take on a whole new meaning,” Lando finished on a pensive note. It had been a long time indeed, since his body chemistry had last been stimulated into generating that irresistible rush.

“But why should anyone want to make things so difficult?” Han demanded. “I’d go for the upfront approach any time.”

In all honesty, Calrissian couldn’t blame him. For years, Han’s life had been built around hazardous deals and contraband running, the threat of being busted always within sight. Lando himself was too familiar with that high-wired feel of courting disaster. You lived on instinct and adrenaline, with no time and energy to spare for elaborate rituals or sentimental indulgence. Lowering your guard was a risk at the best of times, and the spacelanes didn’t exactly encourage romance. Sure, Han had been around, and he’d sampled a variety of pleasures when time and opportunity happened to cooperate, but his involvement with Leia had probably been his first serious relationship in a decade. Perhaps the first ever.

“If you’ve never felt it, I don’t think I can explain it,” Lando said at last. “But I suspect it’s got something to do with _letting_ yourself feel that way too.”

Han’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked ready to fire off another sarcastic rebuttal, but then he just shook his head. The past minutes had stripped away the unflappable facade, and the angry tension in him had become tangible.

Something about his behavior intrigued Lando. Could it be that Han wanted to feel that special thrill? Or was it that he’d already had a taste of it and couldn’t admit it to himself?

 _That’d be the day_ , Lando thought. Amusement, and a wistful kind of sympathy bubbled up inside him, the humor of this situation about to get the better of him. Smart and seasoned as he was, serious infatuation would be a whole new challenge for Han. And the guy could use a little education in handling matters of the heart. Assuming someone could convince him to admit he had one.

Lando kept his expression carefully in check. If he burst out laughing, his friend would get up and stalk out, perhaps overturn a couple of glasses and chairs to vent his temper. He was virtually vibrating with frustration.

“Just go with the flow, buddy,” Lando said amiably. “Life’s good to us these days. Keep an open mind and see where it takes you.”

“Yeah, right.”

Some of the usual sarcasm had returned to Han’s tone, but Lando wasn’t going to buy his act. Whenever something unsettled him, Han lapsed back into his old defensive attitude, and the tough mercenary mask slipped into place again.

“You’ll be surprised,” Lando said with a smile. If Han’s questions indeed meant what he figured they did, he was too deep in denial right now to recognize the benefits of hitting an amorous overdrive. With some regret, Lando decided it was time for a change of subject. “So, what’s up with you, huh? Still dodging missions that come with a guarantee for another decoration?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Han sagged back in his chair, just slightly, but his relief was unmistakable. “Now that the war’s over, I guess I could get rid of that general’s commission. Or switch to a different department. I’ve been talkin’ to some people...” He picked up his glass again. “Or maybe it’s time to make a break for it. No need to rush things though. I’ll wait ‘n see what happens.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Han gave him a mock-glare and had evidently decided that he wasn’t going to order another drink. He pushed his chair back. “You coming to that big party tomorrow night?”

“Which one?” Lando asked innocently.

“ _The_ party,” Han clarified. “It’s up on Guard One. They’ve converted Palpatine’s estate to a first-class resort. And we’re celebrating the liberation of Gaskadh, so wear something nice. Rumor has it that these people have good taste.”

“I’ll aim to please.” Lando raised his glass. “A party on the moon. Sounds like my kind of speed.”

* * *

The converted estate was a high-tech fairyland, couched in exquisitely styled and cultivated landscape, lush gardens surrounding the mansion and its adjacent guest houses. Colored lights had been strung between the trees, their bright reflections dancing across the crowd as a mellow, artificial breeze stirred through the branches.

Han paused by the wide open trueglass doors. From the main hall, a buzz of voices and rippling music flooded the patio. Chewie had thrown himself into the melee, confident that his bulk guaranteed instant access to the buffet. As always, Lando was late to arrive, probably hoping to draw additional attention that way. Every now and then, Han could see the gleam of Leia’s white robe or a glint of Luke’s blond hair where the crush of bodies was thickest.

Han ambled around the hall, exchanged casual greetings with a couple of pilots, and eventually paused at the end of the buffet table. That post gave him a better view of the Gaskadeen delegation and the dignitaries in their jewelry-loaded apparel. Han picked up a glass of astarti wine, sipping as he watched the accumulation of wealth and beauty. Leia’s simple elegance stood out against the garish dress-up, and Luke wore an equally understated outfit of black and dark blue silk. Must be something Leia had selected for him. The fabric shimmered softly whenever it caught the light.

Several weeks had passed since their one-on-one chat at Luke’s place, and despite the best of intentions, they hadn’t managed to organize another private get-together since then. Han felt another twinge of frustration. He’d thought Luke would catch on faster, that something was going to happen after that night. That he’d make time somehow... But instead, Luke observed his countless duties as faithfully as ever, and a shared break in between command staff meetings had been the only private moment they’d snatched.

Han slid a hand into his pocket and toyed with the small key chip. The privileged few were staying overnight, in those richly furnished Imperial guest quarters, and as a hero of the Rebellion, he could count himself among that lucky number. Perhaps a little room party could be improvised later, when the crowds had left, or drunk too much to keep track of everyone.

Meanwhile, he kept an eye on Luke. If Leia caught him at it, she’d make another snippy remark about his overstrung protective instincts and remind him that there really wasn’t any reason to treat Luke like his accident-prone kid brother these days.

Han took a sip of his drink and snorted softly. Contrary to popular opinion, he’d never harbored any secret longing for a younger brother. And if he had, he’d have made sure to pick a different type. Someone who took his advice and didn’t just grow up at lightspeed the moment Han turned his back. If he’d ever thought that Luke might fit those specifications, that notion had evaporated by the time they landed on Yavin Four.

And if Luke had been his brother, Han would have warned him that a flirt with a visiting Minister’s daughter could have all kinds of unwanted repercussions. The Gaskadeen were attractive, dark-skinned people, and in her bright red dress, the girl drew a lot of attention. But, for better or worse, she’d all but glued herself to Luke’s side. Right now, she was ostensibly flicking lint off his shoulder, sliding her long bare arms around him with the agility of a tentacled Orcasquid.

While she talked to the graying Minister, Leia slanted the pair an amused glance. She’d always thought her brother should grab every chance to go out and meet someone, as she put it. The girl gave Luke one of those shimmery wide-eyed looks over the rim of her glass.

Han felt another peculiar, hot jab against the inside of his stomach. It wasn’t an entirely new feeling. In fact, this was how he’d discovered that several obscure wires had crossed in his head where Luke was concerned.

About a month ago, at the party following the peace treaty with the Qondrakans, he’d been watching Luke just like this. Frozen in place, if truth be told, when one member of that rangy and eminently elegant species had practically wrapped himself around Luke in unabashed adulation. And for a while, Luke didn’t seem to mind that attention at all. The longer he’d monitored the scene, the more Han’s annoyance at the Qondrakan’s behavior grew, though it made no sense at all.

Leia had engaged in a lot of politically profitable flirting, and he’d never worried for a moment, always certain where she drew the line. But Luke, for all that his scarce smiles could light up a ballroom, was far from a professional charmer. He attended those receptions and ritzed-up splurges because it was expected of him, and although Coruscant habitually teemed with gossip, there were no rumors about the love-life of the last Jedi. Luke was either very discreet or not interested in affairs with someone from the near-endless stream of exotic visitors. It was nobody else’s business anyway.

Yet that night, as he watched a male suitor latch onto Luke with a vengeance, Han caught himself at indulging the strangest thoughts and fantasies. With stomach-twisting intensity, he’d imagined breaking the Qoondrakan’s arm, the next time he slipped it around Luke’s waist.

 _Think positive_ , Han reminded himself. At least Luke’s calm response to the Qondrakan had revealed that being courted by another male neither disturbed nor fazed him.

Several meters away, the Minister’s slinky daughter shook out her wild brown curls and laughed before she leaned forward to whisper directly into Luke’s ear. For a moment, Han felt like barging in, yank Luke out of there... and engage him in something no one could mistake for an outburst of pseudo-brotherly concern.

Possessive, was the only fitting label for that kind of impulse. A strident alarm bell began ringing at the back of Han’s head. How much worse could it get?

 _Stash the crap_ , he commanded himself. _Let the kid have some fun, if that’s what he wants_. Hells, Luke certainly deserved it, and the Gaskadeen would be waltzing home in a few more days. Han picked up another glass and made his retreat as casually as possible.

Several moments later, he stared out across the patio, a strangely numb feeling settling over him. Deliberately, he summoned the memory of kissing Luke, and the clear, unmistakable response he’d gotten from him that night. That had to count for something. And whatever Luke made of it, that kiss hadn’t tasted of surprise — or disinterest, for that matter.

Han had just taken another swig from his wine glass when a friendly hand slapped his shoulder, and he nearly choked on his drink. He had to quench an impulse to reach for the blaster he wasn’t carrying as he wheeled around.

“Lando, damnit—”

His friend grinned as innocently as his naturally devious look permitted. “Hi yourself. What’re you doing out here, all alone?”

“Waiting for the night fairy to kiss me into a prince,” Han growled. “Why, what were you thinkin’?”

“A _prince_.” Lando composed his features into something more serene. “I hate to break it to you, buddy, but—”

“Yeah, all right, cut it out,” Han grumbled. “You’re late.”

Lando shrugged and brushed at his cape. “I don’t mind missing the buffet brawl. Is the party kinda slow, or did you come out here to cool off?”

“Just can’t get into the swing of these things anymore,” Han returned in what he felt came out as a fairly neutral tone.

Apparently not. Horizontal worry lines formed on Lando’s brow. “Listen, Han... something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he barked.

“Okay, okay.” The corners of Lando’s mouth twitched dangerously as he turned away. “I’ll leave you to your fun then.”

No doubt that he’d home in on Chewie next, to try and wrangle some answers from Han’s partner. Lucky that the Wook knew when to keep his mouth shut. And most likely, Lando — like everyone else — thought that Han was having a hard time accepting that Leia could finally indulge in flirts that served no purpose but her own. Ironic, he thought and made a half-hearted attempt to appreciate the humor of the situation.

At least he didn’t have to fend off all those nosy questions anymore. His and Leia’s separation was now official, much to the delight of those in the Alliance’s political wing who’d always thought that their pet princess should choose someone more suitable. Han smirked at that. Trust Leia to shock them again when nobody expected it. Over the past year or two, she’d shed all the restrictions of her royal upbringing and wasn’t about to climb back into that splendid straitjacket.

At his back, doors opened and closed again, releasing a splash of music and voices. Han drained his glass and called himself a blustering fool. He should go in there, have some fun, find himself nice company, the usual. Except that he’d lost his appetite for the usual, thanks to the Rebellion, Luke and Leia and their crazy idealism, the carbon freeze, and a couple of other unexpected turns. He couldn’t pretend that nothing had changed. The life he’d once led seemed like an old set of clothes that no longer fit, and he couldn’t walk around masquerading as someone else.

It was getting late. A group of pilots strolled out onto the patio, several bottles tucked under as many arms. Though some of them swayed dangerously on their feet, they were evidently taking the party elsewhere.

“Hey, Han!”

The group struggled to a halt, and he recognized Wedge Antilles in their midst, his collar loose and his usually neat hair spilling into his face.

“Hey,” Han returned. “Where’re you guys heading?”

“Quarters.” Wedge glanced down at the bottle he cradled. “It’s getting a bit too crowded in there. Join us?”

It was bound to be more fun than trying to work himself into a foul mood. Han gave the option serious thought when a faint noise at his back snapped him out of it.

“Nah, thanks for the offer,” he returned without questioning the impulse.

“Well, enjoy yourself.”

Han didn’t watch the pilots leave. When he swung around, another glass door had been pushed open, and Luke stood there, looking a little lost. And gorgeous, but — as usual — completely unaware of it. Maybe that was why so many delegates from all the brand spanking memberworlds of the New Republic zoomed in on him at first glance. Despite all the changes, he still had that freshness about him that singled him out in a crowd of cosmopolitan clones, Jedi or not. He’d also opened his shirt to the middle of his chest.

“Where’s your admirer?” Han asked, mostly to disengage his mind from that distracting fact.

Luke knew at once who he was talking about. He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Cajee? Her father thought it was time to retire. They’re facing a crammed schedule tomorrow.”

So, they’d gotten to the point of calling each other by their first names. Not that that surprised him.

“And you’re part of that schedule?” Han asked.

“I promised Leia to be there when they visit the archive and explain about Jedi history.” Luke shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m the most qualified person to do that, but that’s not the point anyway.”

“So long as they don’t ask you to stand on your head and perform some Jedi magick...”

“Like the Perochni?” Laughter sparkled in Luke’s eyes. “That was fun.”

Han grinned back at him, recalling the impossible situation. A throng of diminutive Perochni rattling their pincer-protrusions in applause while all attending Alliance representatives had frozen into solid pillars of mortification. Luke’s quick sense of humor had definitely saved the day — and saved them all from another diplomatic disgrace. Life had turned into a veritable circus.

“Why are you here tonight?”

The question startled Han from his thoughts, and when he looked up, Luke was watching him with single-minded intensity. The look sent a thin arrow of heat through him.

“I’m on the guest list,” he stalled.

Luke folded his arms and said nothing, patiently waiting for Han to run out of excuses.

“Can we get outta here?” he asked, abruptly feeling stifled and tired of pretending. “Or were you going back in?”

With a short shake of the head, Luke took a step towards him, his measuring gaze still focused on Han’s face. “If you’re sure you don’t—”

“Damn sure,” Han stopped him. Luke had come close enough to feel the difference his body heat made in the cool night air. Anybody else, and Han would have taken that gesture for a clear invitation. With Luke, he was never certain if he read the signals right.

“Where to?” Luke asked calmly.

Instead of answering, Han withdrew the key chip from his pocket and held it up. A reflected glitter caught in Luke’s eyes, and for a moment Han thought he could see a different awareness form there — unless it was just his own mind playing tricks on him.

 

They took a shortcut to the guest house, straight through the dim park. With every stride, Han felt energy return to him, as if he’d been circling in a tortuous orbit all evening. In front of the veranda doors, they both stopped automatically and looked up at the slice of the planet that glowed in the nocturnal sky. From a distance, Coruscant looked like a complex piece of jewelry, garlands of tiny lights crisscrossing the amber surface.

“I like it better from here,” Luke said, exhaling a long breath.

Han made a noise of emphatic agreement, but his glance had wandered from the planet to the play of reflected light on Luke’s face. Right now, in that dim glow, there was something almost otherworldly about him, something Han couldn’t name. And he sure wasn’t going to think about the way it affected him. With a sharp motion, he turned and unlocked the door.

“Your plans for that vacation shaping up?” There, that sounded almost casual.

“More or less...” An elegant divan had been placed next to the door, and Luke dropped down on it, his eyes still on the planet’s gleaming curve. “Not much,” he confessed a moment later. “Something always interferes.”

After brief consideration, Han left the lights switched off. He could locate and program the drink dispenser in the reflected shine from outside.

When he returned with two glasses of cold ale, Luke sent an apologetic glance his way. “Leia needs me here.”

Han could think of a number of retorts to that and swallowed them all, though it took something of an effort. Instead, he settled down next to Luke. Who could blame him for wanting to spend time with a sister who’d been absent from his life for almost twenty years — or for letting himself be wrapped around that sister’s little finger? But perhaps it was simply that Luke wanted to feel needed. Not for his abilities and potential, or the miracles everyone expected him to perform at a request. At least Leia could offer something more personal than that.

“It’s not like you’d be gone for a year,” Han said eventually, lame as it sounded.

“Maybe it’s that I’m not too sure what I’m looking for.” Luke lifted the glass and drank before he turned. “I used to just want to go and explore, and it’s not quite like that anymore.” He smiled. “Well, I still want to go, but...”

“But what?”

Luke shrugged. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I wanna get out of here too,” Han answered. “Just haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“It’s... strange, to have that freedom of choice back, isn’t it?” Luke had leaned forward, towards him, expression intent. “For such a long time, we were limited to reacting to the Imperials’ moves, and we made our choices when we had to.”

“And in most cases, it was pretty much a black-or-white affair, no alternatives, no sidetracks...”

Most of his own choices had been about staying or leaving. And a number of decisions — definitely more than Han liked — had been foisted on him by the lightspeed pace of trouble showing up at every turn. It was good, and at the same time almost disconcerting, to have the larger perspective back, that sense of being able to follow up on impulse and intuition whenever he wanted.

“And now, we’ve got everything to choose from,” Luke said. “Almost everything...”

“Why not everything?” Han returned with deliberate innuendo. “It’s just a matter of knowing what you want.”

“Really,” Luke said dryly, but his glance didn’t waver for a fraction. Han would have sworn he could feel it slide across his nerves. “I think I do know.”

The moment’s strange tension ended when Luke smiled with the old, unguarded affection. Han could feel his answering grin come almost instantly and relaxed as he took another sip of his beer.

The real trouble was, they didn’t see enough of each other anymore. Since the battle of Endor, they’d all inhabited the neat little squares that were their assigned positions in the power scheme of restoring the Republic. _Yeah, time to break free_ , Han told himself once again, but then his sense of duty had never come anywhere near Luke’s dedication to the Rebels’ cause. And the General’s uniform didn’t quite compare to the corset Luke had to wear, with all that abstruse worship and demanding awe centered on him.

“Call me crazy,” Han said, letting his arm fall along the backrest where it almost circled Luke’s shoulders, “but I don’t think they really need any of us here. Except to show our faces and give the crowd something to believe in.”

To his surprise, Luke didn’t argue with that appraisal. “Not like the Rebel Alliance needed each and every single one of us,” he agreed. “It meant so much more.”

“And we knew what — and who — we were doin’ it for.”

Han didn’t have the time to wonder what had made him say that. When their eyes met again, he could almost touch the memory of their three years with the Rebellion, before they’d eventually settled in at the Hoth base. Always improvising, rigging whatever equipment they had to the needs of the moment, tossing ideas back and forth when another mission had just gone awry. And through those years, he’d learned a lot about the fire in Luke’s mind.

“I miss that, too,” Luke said in a quiet voice, and the tension returned with full force.

Something went unsaid and hovered tantalizingly on the edge of Han’s mind.

“Are you going to answer my question now?” Luke asked. “Why’re you here?”

Han set his beer aside. “’Cause I wanted to see you.”

He hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but Luke had always had that effect on him, dragging truths to light before Han knew.

Something in Luke’s expression said _now_ — and he reacted before the moment could slip away again, just like the night at Luke’s apartment, no longer worried about misreading the signs.

It took only a short motion, and he’d come close enough to feel the faint brush of Luke’s breath against his face. His hand trailed up Luke’s arm. Through the silk sleeve, Han traced the slight tightening of muscles. Expectation gripped his insides hard, and all his nerves seemed to sing with it. A fast breath went out just before his mouth captured Luke’s, briefly. The contact was more than electric. His free hand reached up into Luke’s hair, and the next kiss lasted much longer, Luke’s hands reaching for his waist in turn, pulling him closer.

The sensations seemed to expand with every moment, and for a while, Han couldn’t think of anything, his presence of mind unraveling under the searching pressure of Luke’s mouth on his own. Then those soft lips parted and the kiss grew more impassioned, a quick breath shared between them. Pleasure and surprise mingled, coursing through him in a rich blend.

It was crazy, but the slow, tentative pace of mutual exploration unstrung something inside him; he wanted nothing but to taste, feel and savor Luke, give himself over to the heated ripples of pleasure. Tongues found each other to tangle and retreat, and their breaths came increasingly ragged whenever they broke for air. He’d leaned back and Luke was pressed against him, his tongue sliding over Han’s, weaving delicious, entrancing patterns.

Hell, had he ever grown dizzy from nothing more than a kiss? Maybe it was the shortage of oxygen, or sheer amazement at Luke’s determination and fervor — but Han was definitely starting to feel lightheaded. And his pants had grown painfully tight within moments.

The galvanized pressure in his chest and groin climbed another degree when Luke’s hand moved from his hip to his thigh, stroking gently up the inside of his leg. There was something completely intoxicating to this, and it spilled through Han’s senses with raw power.

After several aborted attempts, he finally drew back, one hand still wrapped around Luke’s neck, the other firm on his shoulder. “Luke... come to bed with me.”

He didn’t exactly hold his breath, but his stomach clenched hard. For a second or two, he felt almost certain that Luke would reconsider and withdraw — until he met his eyes and caught the flash of pure heat in them.

“Yes.” If Luke sounded a little breathless, he still looked more in control than Han felt at that moment.

On his feet in a fluid motion, he reached a hand to Han. His face mirrored the deep, unconditional trust of past years and undisguised expectation.

Something made it increasingly difficult to let go, so Han kept their hands linked while they made their way into the luxurious bedroom. Pale covers glistened from the dimness, and above the bed sparkled a holo chart of the Core systems, tiny glitters in slow revolution.

It would have been reasonable to undress first, then get into bed, but somehow Han couldn’t muster up the decision to do that. Instead, he pulled Luke close and kissed him again, their bodies pressed tight, their arms locked around each other’s waist and torso. A coil of memories joined and heightened every sensation, so much that Han could feel each nerve ending start to tingle. As if he’d been starving for this hungry closeness. Whatever had happened to him during the past weeks — now it felt like he’d merely skimmed the troubled surface of deep waters. Han let his lips and tongue express the heady rush, drawing the kiss out over long minutes, until Luke broke away to meet his eyes. Han cupped his face in both hands, vaguely thinking that he should say something to lighten this moment, but he was well and truly out of words.

It was Luke who broke the silence with a murmured “come on”, pulling Han down to the mattress without loosening his hold.

When Han tangled his fingers into the blond hair, it still seemed like a fantasy more than reality — as if he’d never expected this to happen, or to be so simple. Then Luke’s fingers slid down the collar of his shirt and unfastened the top buttons, and nothing else had ever felt quite so shockingly real. Han leaned over to claim Luke’s mouth again and set out to reciprocate. His hands tugged the silk shirt free with insensible haste, driven by an incredible longing to touch skin, to hold Luke and retrieve something they’d never quite had, something that had been impossible when their lives were constantly on the line.

Within record time, everything dissolved into a wild current of sensations. In between urgent kisses, they got rid of their shirts, hands roving through a first eager survey of bared skin. Pleasure uncurled in Han’s belly like thick, smooth honey while they struggled to take off the rest of each other’s clothes. His hands searched Luke’s chest, following a trail of small shivers to the nipples that hardened rapidly when his fingers circled them. Through his palms and fingertips, he absorbed the texture of smooth skin, the firm muscles that pulled taut over Luke’s stomach, and his instant responses to every caress.

Mouth to mouth, they were both breathing hard and fast when they’d finally managed to lose everything but underwear. Han slid his fingers beneath the waistband of Luke’s briefs, slowly gliding his palm across the curve of his buttocks and pulling the fabric down with it. A rigid erection prodded his belly as he rubbed and squeezed firm flesh. Luke buried a groan at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Han could feel the vibrations down to the pit of his stomach while Luke’s hands pushed his own briefs out of the way.

“Wait,” Han muttered, lifting his hips to facilitate the process, then gathered Luke back close. “C’mere... let me hold you — yeah, like that...”

When he settled Luke on top of himself, the full-body contact careened through his entire nervous system and made him gasp. Hands clenched into Han’s undershirt, now rumpled and bunched under his armpits, Luke pressed back into him. They rocked and undulated together, settling into a rhythm that took them to a new level of urgency. Uneven breaths caressed Han’s skin as Luke bent down, his mouth capturing one nipple while his fingers traced the other. A gentle pinch of teeth startled Han into a breathless groan and shot searing heat straight into his engorged cock. If anything had ever turned him on so fiercely, he sure didn’t remember.

He grabbed Luke’s shoulders and they rolled over, completely entangled, united in the same, unstoppable impulse. Luke’s arms locked like a vise around his torso when Han’s knee opened his legs, his hips rocking impatiently forward. It took a major effort to slow down for so much as a moment, but Han forced himself to it, his eyes taking possession of Luke’s nakedness, the slender, perfectly sculpted frame. The holo’s sparkles danced languidly over Luke’s face, neck and chest, transforming him into a sculpture of volatile shimmers and passion. The sight fueled hot flares of need even as Han tried to check his pace.

He slid one hand up the inside of Luke’s thigh, following the movement of swiftly tensing muscles. Luke moaned against his lips, then into his mouth when Han deepened the kiss, finally pushing Luke into the mattress with his full weight. His fingers were playing between Luke’s legs, cupping and squeezing gently, traveling lightly up the hard shaft.

“Han...” Luke’s fingers tangled in his hair, blue eyes darkened by thoughtless, unrestrained desire.

Odd, how that look alone could speed up his pulse. Han stopped the teasing strokes and glided his palm up Luke’s chest, over a battering heartbeat that matched his own. Their hips pressed together, engaging in a trance-like rhythm that crushed giving and taking into one and the same thing. A delicious ache pulled tighter in Han’s groin.

“Luke,” he murmured against warm, moist lips. “Hell, why’d we wait so long? This is—”

Whatever he might have said dissolved into a rough, throaty sound when Luke pushed up against him. And there was no way he could control the wild surge that built between them. Han cupped a hand around Luke’s jaw, soaking up every unchecked flicker of reaction on his face while he moved between Luke’s sprawled legs, thrust against him at an urgent pace, and Luke pulled him down almost frantically. Han felt the sudden change of tempo, the rise of tension that seemed to quaver through every muscle in the body he’d trapped beneath himself. With bruising strength, Luke’s fingers dug into the small of his back as he writhed his hips, his back bowstring-taut...

Han used up every remaining shred of control to focus and watch Luke’s climax — the moment when it lashed up through his frame and seized his face, and those small, breathless sounds rose to a pitch, faltering in a ragged groan. More arousing than he ever would have dreamed, the sight sent violent thrills into Han’s gut. The blond head jerked back, but Luke’s thighs tightened around his hips, keeping him trapped in burning friction. Han heard his own answering gasps at the hot, slick bursts against his cock. Echoes of excruciating intensity flared in his nerves, and he thrust himself against Luke with mute need.

It took no more than a few seconds, and his own movements grew erratic. Han bent down to capture Luke’s mouth one last time, to draw those harsh, panting breaths into his own lungs while his hand tightened on a sweat-damp thigh. He froze as orgasm swept through him in a long, searing crest of pleasure.

A minor infinity passed before he became aware that he’d collapsed on top of Luke with all the grace of a heat-struck bantha. Gathering will and energy with an effort, Han moved aside, but couldn’t persuade himself to let go entirely. Keeping one arm slung across Luke’s waist, he drew a deep breath.

It had all happened in such a scramble, and he wished he’d taken a little more time to coax and explore, wished he’d demonstrated more self-control and skill to turn this into something special... Then again, Luke looked almost as overwhelmed and shaken as he felt, Han decided. His chest still heaving, a fevered color flushing his face, mussed hair plastered to his temples and forehead. Beautiful.

Before he could think about it, Han lowered his head and pressed a kiss against Luke’s bare shoulder, trying to ignore the odd little kick of his heart against his ribs. There’d be time for more later — a whole lot of time, he couldn’t help hoping — and what was it anyway, that made him feel so restless and unsteady? If he’d thought that a quick romp would straighten out all the bizarre notions he’d been tangling with, he’d sure miscalculated.

He moved his hand up to Luke’s chest, fumbling for something that would clarify the situation, but the tremor in his nerves only got worse when their eyes met. Luke’s glance lost its haziness in a second and seemed to search him with the precision of an infrared scanner, homing in on every outpour of unstable energy.

Han realized that his hand had tightened and consciously relaxed it. “Luke,” he began, “I don’t how to say this, but I guess I gotta tell you—”

He broke off when Luke’s hand reached for his, clasping it gently. “I can guess.” Releasing Han, he pushed up to lean against the headboard. “And don’t worry about it. We’re friends, and this doesn’t change anything. No obligations.”

It was definitely the last thing he’d expected.

“Well, I—” Han stopped himself again before he could blurt witless protest. Though he’d used similar phrases on occasion, Luke’s reaction stunned him — the casualness with which he’d just discarded every other possibility. Han sat up slowly, to sort through the muddle of his own, vastly incoherent reactions.

“Meaning you don’t think we should be doin’ this again?” he asked at length, putting all the nonchalance he could summon into his tone. “Anything wrong with it?” When he glanced back at Luke, a withdrawn look came over the heated face.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Luke answered levelly. “All I meant is that I’d like to keep things casual myself. It just... wouldn’t be a good idea to get involved in anything more.”

 _Why the hell not?_ Han wanted to fire back, but he supposed Luke had a number of solid reasons all ready and lined up.

“Well, whatever feels right,” he managed eventually.

Luke gave him a quick, if somewhat strained-looking smile and swung his legs out of the bed. “Sure. And now I guess I’d better clean up.”

He’d disappeared inside the fresher cubicle before Han could settle on a reply. And what else was there to say anyway? Rolling over onto his stomach, Han told himself that this arrangement should agree with him. He’d just botched the relationship with Leia because he’d launched himself into it without thinking, and a measure of guilt kept nagging at him each time he remembered the look in her eyes when they’d finally faced up to the truth. Whatever happened between him and Luke, at least there was no cause to worry about hurting the kid’s feelings.

Kid — right. Luke wasn’t the vulnerable youngster anymore, and from the way he’d just acted, there were no delicate feelings Han’s attitude and known shortcomings could possibly bruise. Just the old friendship and trust. If they could add nights like this to that solid base, things should be nothing short of perfect.

 _Then why’m I feeling like everything went wrong?_ Han asked himself, trying to push back the knot of angry confoundment, but the hollow feeling in his stomach remained. _I wasn’t about to ask him for vows and promises_...

The fresher’s door slid back at that moment and put an end to his unsuccessful introspection. When Han turned around, Luke had donned a green robe and stood in the doorway with his hands pushed into its pockets.

“Are you gonna come back here?” Han asked, raising his eyebrows to produce a look of mocking exasperation. “Or should I come ‘n get you?”

Luke paused as if the question required some serious reflection, and Han didn’t like it at all. But before he received an answer, the comlink he’d left in the lounge gave a shrill whistle.

In that strange, tense silence, the sound pierced him to the marrow, and Han cursed as he got to his feet. Nobody would call him on his private frequency tonight, unless it was something urgent. _Chewie?_ he wondered as he padded into the lounge. The comlink whistled again, and he swept it up angrily. “Yeah.”

“Oh, good you’re there,” Leia’s voice said with all too apparent relief.

“What is it?”

“An emergency,” she answered tersely, and her tone told him to put all questions on hold until later. “Come to the main building... as soon as you can.” Something in the way she hesitated over the last words suggested that she’d guessed he wasn’t alone.

“No problem,” Han answered mechanically.

“Thanks. And, Han—?”

“What?” His thumb hovered over the deactivation switch.

“Any idea where Luke might be? He didn’t take his comlink, and I don’t know how to raise him.”

Han hoped that his quickly indrawn breath hadn’t been audible for her. If Leia was ever to find out about tonight, this definitely wasn’t the right moment. “I’m sure Luke’s around somewhere,” he said as casually as he could. “Maybe his own quarters?”

“Right. I’ll send one of the droids.”

“I’ll see you in a minute.”

When he turned, Luke stood by the open bedroom door, fully dressed.

“Guess I’d better be at my quarters then,” he said in quiet, unrevealing tones.

“Yeah.” Han set the comlink down, uncomfortable and suddenly aware that he was still stark naked, except for his undershirt, when Luke’s glance swept over him and on to the door. “There’ll be an emergency meeting shortly.”

For another moment, he wondered what else to say — if anything he could say would relieve the sudden tension and awkwardness between them — but all that came to mind were trite, painfully meaningless phrases.

“I’ll see you there,” Luke answered as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. And with that, he stepped through the veranda door, into the dark garden.

Han bit down on a juicy profanity and tried to swallow the bleak frustration with it. Whatever he’d expected or hoped for, this situation had somehow acquired the sour taste of complete failure.

* * *

They’d all gathered in one of the luxuriously furnished parlors, the somber faces at odds with the bright pastel colors interior designers had employed everywhere, during the first rush of frantic redecorating. When Han entered, Luke had already arrived and was talking quietly to Leia.

Pausing inside the door, Han nodded a brief greeting and hoped to hell he didn’t look as ruffled as he felt. To distract himself, he swept a look around, appraising the situation while he blocked every other thought from his mind.

The Gaskadeen Minister stood by a heavy slatewood table, both hands braced on either side of a datapad that rested atop the polished surface. The man’s posture and drawn expression made it an easy guess that the unexpected crisis had struck on the visitors’ homeworld, not on Coruscant itself.

On the far side of the room, the Minister’s daughter sat hunched on a giant sofa. Pale-faced and wrapped in a dark gown, she leaned heavily into a uniformed young man Han hadn’t seen before. One of the messengers from Gaskadh, perhaps, and from the look of it, the girl’s intended, or at least a very close friend of the family.

When Admiral Ackbar stepped into the room, followed by Generals Rieekan and Raddox, Leia turned towards the rest of the group. “Thank you all for coming,” she said in a tight voice. “I know this was meant to be a celebration, but... I’ll let Minister Bajur explain these unexpected developments to you.”

“We’re facing a very grave situation on our homeworld,” Bajur started, repeating what he must have shared with Leia for the late arrivals’ benefit. “Since my government decided not to trust the news to subspace communications—” he nodded towards the youth on the sofa, “—my son Javren brought the message.”

At a closer glance, Han could detect hints of family likeness; the same aquiline nose and large brown eyes beneath a mop of russet hair.

Minister Bajur sent a beseeching look across the gathering. “Maybe you’ve heard that the outermost planet in our system is highly unstable. Its moons have already drifted out of their orbit, and for years, our world has suffered from dangerous meteorite bombardment. As it grew worse, we constructed an orbiting defense platform...” He flipped his datapad open, tapped a few keys, and a small holograph sparkled up. Above the northern hemisphere of the planet hovered a complex structure resembling a mushroom, bristling with protrusions that looked like quad guns and rotating sensor banks.

“The station is equipped with a large array of laser cannons,” Bajur continued, “and can be maneuvered into position to target any incoming debris, reducing it to harmless splinters. The impact of a meteorite on the surface could wreak havoc on our world.”

“Such a meteorite could vaporize an ocean or destroy entire cities,” Javren added, rising to join his father by the table. “Millions would die. The gun station is our only defense against a disaster like that.”

“And our enemies have seized it,” the Minister said grimly. “How they managed to enter the station and overwhelm its crew remains a matter of debate for now, but a band of Imperial officers is now in charge of the laser array. And they’ve threatened to shut it down if we don’t comply with their demands.” His shoulders slumped as he traded a glance with his son. “Our situation is as desperate as it is urgent. Our astronomers predict that several large meteorites will enter Gaskadh’s atmosphere in nine standard revolution periods, if they can’t be destroyed or deflected off their present course.”

“What are those demands?” Leia prompted gently when he paused, brooding over the holo simulation of his endangered world.

The man gathered himself up and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Since we defeated the Imperial occupation forces, we’re holding thousands of them in detention. A group of high-ranking officers await their trials for the crimes committed against my people.”

“And the officers who’ve hijacked the station want you to set those prisoners free?” Admiral Ackbar guessed, his deep voice booming across the room.

The Minister nodded. “All of them. There is no way we can agree to such a bargain.”

“Perhaps you could release the main body of the troops,” General Raddox suggested with typical matter-of-factness. “Those who served as simple soldiers and can’t be charged with specific crimes.”

“Maybe...” The Minister sounded unconvinced. “But I suspect that they’ll want the leaders set free, and we cannot do that.”

“Minister Bajur.” Leia stepped closer, briefly putting a hand on his arm. “Believe me, I understand your desire to see those men punished, but the lives of so many are at stake, Imperial prisoners and your own people alike. There are times when we have to turn away from the past and consider only the future.”

“Impossible!” he said violently, straightening so abruptly that Leia almost flinched back. Bajur caught himself at that. “I’m sorry,” he continued in a softer tone, “but I cannot agree. They murdered my wife. There must be justice.”

Han shifted uneasily. Sure, he could sympathize with the man’s feelings, but all the same, the Minister was talking about sacrificing millions in the name of justice.

“So what’s your alternative?” he asked.

Bajur’s eyes found him after a moment, and a small frown slanted up between his brows. They hadn’t been introduced, and Han could guess that in his plain clothes he looked like a party buster or someone’s destitute relative. A lot of people seemed to believe that war heroes walked around in dress uniform all day, sporting a chestful of decorations. He offered a brief grin. “Han Solo. Pleased to meet you. What’d you have in mind to get those Imperials to cooperate?”

His casual tone gained him a disapproving glance from Leia, but the Minister seemed too entangled in his worries to care. He gestured tiredly, encouraging his son to answer.

“Our government has tried to negotiate terms,” the young man said, “and the hijackers have agreed to talk to an emissary... in person.”

“That means you can get someone aboard that station,” Han cut in. “Or even a small group.”

On the periphery of his vision, he noticed that Luke had stepped forward to join the others by the table, but for the time being, Han kept his eyes trained on the Minister and his son. Faint uneasiness tugged unpleasantly at his stomach.

“I doubt that they’d allow more than one or two to set foot on the station,” Javren returned. “Not all the prisoners have been accounted for, so we can’t be sure of their exact number, but the shuttle they used won’t carry more than twenty passengers.”

Han shrugged. Twenty to one, or two. He’d lived through worse odds. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It could be worse,” the young man agreed and his expression brightened a fraction.

“And since you don’t believe that a bargain’s gonna cut it, you’re hoping that your emissary can take those Imperials down?” The more he focused on the issue at hand, the more his equilibrium returned, and Han felt himself ease back into practiced patterns of tactical thinking. “What about the station’s original crew? Any chance they’re still alive?” Privately, he doubted that. A station this size hardly provided detention facilities or enough supplies for a doubled number of occupants. Besides, the Imperial commandos would have to be fools to risk keeping their enemies around.

Before Javren could answer, his father raised a hand. “I didn’t mean to imply that a reasonable bargain is not an option,” he said carefully, “but I doubt that these terrorists will agree to any terms we’d call reasonable.”

“Perhaps your emissary will be able to determine their personal motivations,” Leia suggested. “If only a couple among them could be persuaded to consider alternatives...” Somewhere in the middle of it, her voice lost the note of unwavering confidence.

“They’re elite soldiers of the Empire,” Bajur objected with a shake of the head. “Fanatics. Time and again, we have encountered this type. That the Empire has come to an end is incomprehensible for them, and they’d sooner die than consider alternatives.”

General Raddox paced from the door to the table. “Under the circumstances, you’ll have to select someone who can act as a mediator and take action against them, if necessary.”

“Yes indeed.” The Minister squared his shoulders and turned sideways, his glance falling on Luke as if drawn by a magnet.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were focused on Luke who still seemed to be studying the holographic projection. Only the faint signs of tension in his posture revealed that he was very much aware of the close attention concentrating on him.

 _Should’ve seen that coming_ , Han thought, and his unease returned, settling alongside the protectiveness Luke had always stirred in him. _Another emergency clocks in, and everybody looks to the one-man army_.

Not that Luke wasn’t formidable with his lightsaber, and he’d participated in a number of peace talks and conferences that took place amidst the chaos of a disintegrating Empire, but people tended to forget that becoming a Jedi hadn’t suddenly made him immortal or invincible.

“Jedi Skywalker,” the Minister began in grave tones, “I had hoped that perhaps you would be willing to act as our emissary during this terrible crisis.”

“I’m honored by your confidence.” Luke straightened and met the man’s expectant gaze with a slight curving of his mouth, projecting nothing but reassurance.

Han gave him a once-over from the corner of his eye. Hard to read Luke’s expression right now, as if the man had simply retreated to a place deep inside the Jedi shields. But Han’s mind played tricks on him again, taunting him with a flash of recollection that ran hot and cold on his skin. He could see Luke sprawl on the bed, his throat arched and his lips parted...

“Thank you.” When Bajur inclined his head, much of the nervous agitation seemed to slip away. “I have the utmost faith in your abilities.”

Relief spread through the room as if the problem had already been solved, and the rest was mere routine. Han used the moment to regain control and drew on his annoyance to limit every thought to strategic matters.

“So,” he broke the silence, “what happens if the Imperials don’t agree to whatever terms your government’s willing to offer? We’re still looking at one man going against twenty trained officers.”

The Minister’s daughter rose from her perch on the sofa at that. “Surely a Jedi’s powers go beyond the things an ordinary person can achieve,” she said with a quivering smile, coming to stand beside her brother.

Just barely, Han stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He’d come across that kind of naivety too many times to count — so often it wasn’t funny anymore — and he’d long recognized the dangerous flip side of mindless hero worship. He turned towards Luke. “You can’t walk in there with a load of detonators.”

“Of course not, any damage to the station must be avoided,” the Minister said hastily. “We might not have the time to repair it.”

 _What about damage to people?_ Han thought, annoyed. Luke had always had that habit of underestimating personal risk, or conveniently ignoring it, as the case might be.

“Stun gas wouldn’t work either,” Luke said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’d be able to block its effects long enough.”

For the first time since Han had entered the room, their eyes met, and Han felt the breath catch in his throat. Was there something more than rational consideration in Luke’s gaze, some kind of private acknowledgment that passed between them during that short moment, or was that just wishful thinking?

Luke’s glance swept sideways as Bajur nodded glumly. Perhaps the man had expected Luke to spring a miracle solution on them and inform everybody that he’d simply telepathize the Imperials into submission.

“That rules out nerve gas as well,” Bajur said. “You’ll be searched for weapons, and if you carried a breathing filter, they would immediately guess our intentions.”

“Is there any way of taking control of the station, short of disabling the entire group?” Luke asked.

“I don’t see how—” the Minister started.

“What about that cannon array?” Han interrupted him, tilting his chin at the tiny holograph. “Can the targeting computer be set on automatic?”

Bajur’s brow furrowed as he keyed for a file. The holo vanished in miniature fireworks of green-white sparkles, and schematics appeared on the small display. But before he’d finished checking the figures, his son said, “That’s possible, but the coordinates would have to be entered first... and the codes would have to be changed, so that the commands can’t be altered again.”

“We would have to discuss this with the programmers,” the Minister interjected.

Han chanced a look at the schematics. “Tell me if I’m wrong,” he said, addressing Javren who seemed to know a lot more about the station than his father did. “But this looks like two separate units to me.”

“You’re right.” The younger man tapped a column on the display. “The targeting computer can be accessed from the control center in our capital, but there’s an independent control unit that allows the station’s personnel to confirm or modify any transmitted commands. Their authorization codes complete the ignition sequence. It’s part of the security protocols, to minimize the risk of malfunctions.” He looked distinctly unhappy when he raised his head again. “To achieve an override, an interface would have to be established between the two units.”

“How difficult is that?” Leia peered at the schematics, then glanced from the boy to Han.

“With the right kind of equipment, it could probably be rigged in minutes,” Han replied and tried to sound more confident than he felt. “Problem is, we’d have to camouflage the interface, at least for the time it takes to complete the data transfer — right?”

Javren nodded, but at the same time, Han could feel Luke watching him and realized that he’d said _we_. He folded his arms. “No matter what happens, there’s no way anybody can handle this alone. Takes at least two to pull it off. One to distract their attention, and one to cross all the relevant wires. You’ll want a good mechanic for the job.”

“Artoo could handle that part,” Luke suggested, though he didn’t sound altogether sure of himself.

“Sure, he’s an ace with every kind of data processor, but he’s not half as fast as a sentient mechanic,” Han objected. “He wasn’t designed for hardware manipulations of this type.” Deliberately, he met Luke’s eyes again and held them with absolute conviction. They were a good team, always had been, and he flat-out refused to let the past couple of hours come between them and the only decision that made sense. “Chances are, you’ll have to beat a fast retreat. You’re gonna need a good pilot, too.”

“I’m not such a bad pilot myself,” Luke retorted, and the flash of humor in his eyes reopened a link to the past and the day they’d first met.

Han grinned, thinking that no one in the room could possibly guess what this exchange was all about. “I’m not gonna argue with that,” he said, “but there’s no point in taking more risks than you have to.”

Luke conceded the point with a shrug and a brief smile that dispelled every trace of skepticism. “Thanks, Han,” he said in a slightly lowered voice.

Minister Bajur cleared his throat as if he needed to remind them of his presence. “Well, um, General Solo, on behalf of my government, I thank you for your gracious offer. I’m sure we’ll benefit from your expertise.” In afterthought, he switched off the datapad. “How much time do you require, to prepare yourselves for the trip? We should leave as soon as possible.”

“I’d like to collect some equipment,” Han said, mentally compiling a list of tools that might come in useful.

“I’ll accompany you right away,” Luke offered, and Cajee beamed at him.

“I’ll show you around our ship,” she suggested, taking his arm. “We must see the quartermaster at once, to provide you with proper accommodations...”

Something about her behavior irked Han more than it should, adding another twinge of annoyance to his climbing impatience. If only the Falcon wasn’t grounded in drydock for those long-delayed overhauls of the drive matrix. He’d much prefer traveling to Gaskadh in his own ship, with no company except Luke and Chewie, instead of having to put up with these people and remember etiquette all the time.

The girl was still chattering when he tuned back in, but she blushed prettily at her father’s eloquent glance. Han pushed away from the table. “All right. Let’s get to it.”

 

His mind focused exclusively on the equipment he’d need to pack and breaking the news to Chewie, Han climbed into the first available transfer shuttle. And that was how he suddenly found himself alone with Leia, for the first time since the day they’d agreed to call off the frayed romance and at least try to stay friends.

“I won’t bite,” she said with definite irony, noticing his hesitation before Han could cover up.

He grumbled a retort and sat down on the plush passenger couch in the vehicle’s back. As the shuttle sped towards the glowing planet, Han could feel her sidelong scrutiny of him.

“What’s with you?” Leia asked at length. “You look a little... rattled.”

“It’s been a long night,” Han said, glad that he had a plausible excuse available. “Besides, attending parties doesn’t usually lead to signing up for another breakneck mission. I’ll keep that in mind, next time I accept an invitation.”

“I’m glad you’ll accompany Luke,” Leia said frankly, a hint of amusement in her eyes when Han looked at her. “Have you talked to him tonight?” she continued. “He and I had a long conversation a couple of days ago...”

“About what?” he asked uncomfortably.

“About us, Han.” Leia interlaced her fingers and gazed down at them, her white robe shining from the dim interior. “I didn’t think he’d take it so hard, but he did. He seemed almost... shocked.”

“Really?” was all Han managed. He called up the memory of that evening in Luke’s apartment, his insistence on trying to make things work — but that was just Luke’s way. He’d always cared about his friends’ happiness.

Leia nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve tried to explain, but... I feel as if I’ve disappointed him terribly, and I don’t understand it. Do you know what this is all about?”

He had no idea.

“Most likely, it’s just that he feels bad for you,” Han offered, but the look she gave him told him that she found this answer less than convincing.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

* * * * *

If the rest of the trip turned out just as uneventful, Han decided after a day and a half into hyperspace, he’d arrive on Gaskadh high-strung and jumpy like a nerf during mating season. Though they spent most of the time studying schematics and technical data, familiarizing themselves with the gun station and the specifics of the targeting array, Han caught himself wishing for more demanding assignments to keep his mind on the right track. He’d spent a restless night in his quarters aboard the modified TX-15 corvette, and those endlessly stretching mealbreaks had turned into a vexing test of his patience.

Courtesy compelled them to accept the minister’s invitation and share private lunches and dinners in his suite, Cajee usually seated next to Luke and entertaining him with stories about her homeworld. Several times, she expressed the hope that Luke would stay on after the end of their operation, taking their success for granted with absolute, unflappable optimism.

Well, maybe that was her way of coping with the grim threat to her world, Han admitted grudgingly; it still didn’t mean he had to enjoy watching her gush and glow like a fusion torch with a single target.

 _Might as well save herself the effort_ , he thought, digging into an exquisite dish of lakhdeer loin, accompanied by steamed cingla roots. Luke was friendly enough with the girl, but everyone who’d seen him long for Leia with that quiet, dreamy desperation could tell the attraction was one-sided this time. Yet sooner or later, Han thought uneasily, Luke would fall in love again. With someone eminently suitable, well-heeled and well educated. Someone who shared all his beliefs.

Pushing the thought aside, Han noticed that he’d been chasing a piece of cingla root across his plate for a while. Annoyed at his own distraction, he skewered it. No point trying to second-guess Luke’s future choices, but no matter what, he’d always taken Luke to be the marrying kind, tenacious as he was in his affections. Luke focused on people; once he let himself get close to someone, he was in for the long haul. No question that he’d always prefer serious involvement over inconsequential affairs.

Han lowered his fork again before he’d quite guided it to his mouth. In the middle of that thought, he could suddenly hear Luke’s voice saying _I’d like to keep things casual myself_. Calm and determined, like he’d made up his mind about it some time ago. The marrying kind, right. Perhaps the war had stripped away those romantic ideals after all.

Disconcerted, Han pushed his plate aside, never mind that he’d only half emptied it. What if he’d been living with a fantasy of Luke in his head, failing to recognize the countless signals of change? For all he knew, Luke might have discovered that casual flings suited him fine. _Nothing wrong with that_ , Han told himself defiantly. Romance was for half-grown kids and hopeless dreamers anyway.

Still, when he glanced back at Cajee, his annoyance had mutated into something close to sympathy, and that sure as hell didn’t make any more sense. Relieved to see the protocol droid start clearing away the dishes, Han pushed his chair back.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he answered Luke’s inquisitive glance, as if Luke didn’t know exactly what was on the afternoon’s agenda. “You coming?”

“It’s only another day,” Luke said as soon as they’d made it into the corridor.

Han snorted. “Yeah, but we could’ve cut that time by half if we’d taken the Falcon.” Once again, he cursed his timing. That slam-bang overhaul could have waited another week or two, if he’d known that he’d need his ship.

“They mean well,” Luke interrupted his thoughts.

“I know,” Han grumbled, lengthening his strides. “They’re just... not my kind of people, I guess.”

Luke chuckled. “No, I guess not.” When they entered the lift for the upper deck, he added, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it either. Being around people who take so many things for granted. The things they notice about others, and the things they don’t...” He shrugged a little helplessly.

Strangely enough, that remark hiked Han’s mood back up to the level that counted as standard.

“I know what you mean,” he started, but before he could voice his opinion about the leanings and quirks of the high and mighty, the lift jarred to an abrupt stop, jostling them into each other.

“What the—?” Han’s breath left his lungs in a whoosh when Luke collided into him, knocking him back against the cabin wall.

“Sorry.” Luke straightened slowly, but his hand lingered on Han’s arm for another long moment.

“No problem,” Han answered automatically. There was something disconcerting about the way his nerves reacted to Luke’s perfectly casual touch, the hairs on his arm lifting as if electrified. Something hypnotic to the look Luke gave him right now, searching him with a glimmer that promised the beginnings of a smile.

 _I must be going crazy_ , Han decided when he couldn’t come up with a single sensible thing to say.

It was Luke who eased the awkward tension with a glance at the lift controls. “Power droppage in one of the generators, I suppose.”

“Yeah, looks like—” Han broke off and cocked his head. “You hear that? Sounds like we’re back to sublight.”

“You’re right.” A small frown formed beneath the fringe of tousled blond hair. “Wonder what’s going on.”

“We’d better go to the bridge and find out.”

Luke gave a short nod, punched the lift controls, and after a moment the cabin continued on its course. “It could be a malfunction,” he said doubtfully. “Something that can’t be fixed while the hyperdrive’s engaged.”

At present, all Han had to offer for answer was a noncommittal noise. He could still feel the brief pressure of Luke’s body against him, a sensation that pooled in the pit of his stomach, calling up all too detailed memories of the night after the party. The heated ripple that ran through his nerves made him wonder how Luke could remain so utterly balanced and unaffected. ‘Course, it hadn’t meant all that much to him in the first place, and maybe he simply found sex with a good friend preferable to interludes with complete strangers.

Before the cabin had come to a stop on the upper deck, they could already hear the muffled wail of a shipwide alarm.

“That’s no malfunction.” Han elbowed his way through the terminally slow lift doors. Now that his brains had shifted back into gear, he could put the evidence together and arrive at a pretty clear picture of the situation. Something had pulled the corvette out of lightspeed, and in all likelihood, that something answered to the description of a hyperfield disruptor.

“What do you think — pirates or Imperials?” Luke asked as they jogged down the main corridor. Evidently, he’d reached the same conclusion.

Ship’s crew hurried past them and to their posts, driven by the howls of proximity alarms.

“Pirates,” Han resolved after a moment of flashing through the sector’s spacelanes. “Unless somebody’s set a trap for the good minister in particular.”

Bajur had already made the bridge when they arrived, shooting them a grateful look from his post by the operations console. A single glance at the scopes told Han that his guess had been right on target. A motley swarm of battle-worn one-man fighters and armored gunboats swirled around the corvette. Somewhere behind their ranks, the scanners picked up the energy signature of a much larger ship.

Had to be at least the size of an Imperial cruiser, Han thought, if it could generate a disruption field powerful enough to snare a corvette traveling at point two past lightspeed. Looking at the pirates’ attack pattern, they had at least a couple of minutes before the mother ship’s generators could compensate for the disruptor’s energy drain.

Luke moved to his side and coolly studied the sensor data, not even blinking when arrows of purple light whipped across the bridge, reflections of a turbolaser discharge that spattered harmlessly off the main viewport. The fighters had started their attack, and they’d try pinning the corvette into place until the tractor beam could be engaged.

“Evasive action!” the ship’s captain snapped, his nervous agitation all too obvious.

Turning back from the scopes, Han surveyed the bridge crew with a critical glance. Their average age had to be around twenty, and the pitched tension that showed on all their faces suggested a shared lack of experience with attacks of this kind. At least the woman at the helm seemed to know her job. Hands racing across her console, she guided the corvette through a series of quick spins and drops that sent the battered fighters off in a flurry.

“We’ll have to outmaneuver them and run for hyperspace.” The captain posted himself behind the flight console, eyes darting back and forth between the nav display and the pirate ships beyond the viewport.

 _Talk about stating the obvious_ , Han thought. But as long as they had to channel additional energy into the corvette’s defense shields, a quick jump to lightspeed was hardly an option.

In another moment, the fighters closed on them again, bursts of crimson laserlight streaking from their guns. Whoever manned the corvette’s gun turrets returned fire with blind panic more than skill. Chances were that the gunners had learned all they knew from combat simulations. Once the Imperial troops on Gaskadh packed it in, the local military had been forced to replenish their ranks with half-trained recruits and raw beginners.

Han traded brief glances with Luke, and the spark in those summer-blue eyes took him all the way back to the first day of their acquaintance. He grinned. “Let’s get the guns.”

 

Barely two minutes later, he swung the gunner’s chair towards the elevated canopy bubble, readying all batteries. Without discussion, he and Luke had taken themselves aft. Another set of gun turrets was located at the fore, close to the bridge, but it was a fair bet the pirates would target the main drive. There’d been no discussion with the regular crew either; both appointed gunners had vacated their posts almost in a hurry. Sometimes a war hero’s reputation did come in useful.

Han squeezed off a few shots at an ungainly gunboat, mostly to check the control grips. The laser batteries checked out well enough, their response barely a cut below the Falcon’s ratings. He slipped on the headset. A glance over his shoulder wouldn’t do to see how Luke was faring, the twin gun turrets being set at a slight angle.

Han pulled the voice pickup towards his mouth. “You there, kid?”

Kid. For months, he’d bitten back down on that fond, outdated nickname, but there it was, sneaking up on him again. Han made a face at his own slip and blamed it on the memories that swamped his mind. He could almost hear Luke’s shout of triumph after he’d shot down his first TIE fighter, all exuberance and virtually crackling with energy.

“Yep. Everything checks out,” Luke replied.

“And here’s your first target,” Han commented as a modified B-wing barreled past. “Wonder where they found that old crate...”

In another second, the B-wing was history, and Han got his chance to even the scores when two gunboats scissored towards the drive. One of his blasts sliced a tarnished hull, painting a line of fire after the trundling ship, but he couldn’t spare a second to watch. A flock of modified headhunters had fanned out, strafing the corvette’s upper segment with a hail of blasts that would eventually punch a hole into the shields. Han tracked the foremost fighter, but it veered from his sights at the very last instant, the whole cluster of them diving at a steep angle.

“Watch it, Luke, they’re coming up on your side.”

“I’m all set.”

Han couldn’t see the explosion, but a few seconds later, the corvette rode a wave of debris, and the remaining headhunters peeled away. When they returned, they’d regrouped into spearhead formation. Han’s next barrage exploded another fighter, and he switched to a wide spray of energy bursts. Much as the little suckers tried to dodge those shots, they’d only run right into Luke’s line of fire.

And good riddance, Han thought. Luke had scored pretty good, that first time aboard the Falcon — now his reflexes and precise timing were almost uncanny. _Hell of a backup to have in a fight, that’s for sure_.

After a while, the corvette’s pilot got the hang of their barrage patterns and complemented them with inventive maneuvers of her own. Little by little, the pirates were falling back and seemed ready to reassess the odds for a grand slam.

“You see that?” Luke’s voice filtered through the headset. “Looks as if the mother ship’s ready to join.”

Han dashed a glance at the tactical display where a new light blip had popped up in flaring orange. “Uh-huh. We sure don’t want her anywhere near us.”

As if she’d heard him, the corvette flipped over, angling away from the bigger ship’s trajectory. A female voice came over the headset. “We’ll make a run for it now. One minute to hyperspace. Thanks, boys.”

“Boys?” Han echoed and heard Luke’s chuckle, so low it was a mere tingle in his ear. He ran his batteries through another quick traverse, cannonfire exploding across the vista of distant stars and pale, carbon-scored hulls.

An upsurge of power went through the corvette, and he could feel it tremble up his spine, a rush that climbed and crested in a brilliant white wave of stars. Hyperspace.

Han released the handgrips and wiped his sweaty palms against his pants as he climbed down the gunwell. At the ladder’s foot, Luke was waiting for him, a wide smile breaking on his face. Between them, they could claim fifteen hits, and Han felt another rush of elation. Amazing, what a bit of action could do for his inner balance.

He grabbed Luke’s shoulders, shaking him lightly, and couldn’t help noticing the slight flush across his cheekbones, the vibrant sparkle of excitement in his eyes. “Hey, you were pretty good up there.”

“You didn’t do too bad either.” Luke gripped his arm in turn, and the gesture seemed to set something right that had come undone two nights ago.

Thoughtless impulse grabbed Han. In another moment, he might have tossed caution and sanity to the winds and kissed Luke, if Bajur’s voice hadn’t put an abrupt end to the private moment. The minister had hurried aft to personally express his gratitude. No doubts that Cajee would be all over Luke during dinner.

“All right, where were we?” Han asked when Bajur had excused himself again.

“Heading back to work.”

“Right.”

They exchanged brief grins before heading off towards the science station where Javren was waiting for them.

More precisely, the boy was sprawled out flat on his back, only his boots sticking out from underneath the central console.

“What’s wrong?” Han crouched down beside him and saw that he was about to attack the console’s innards with a number-three ’spanner. “Hey, watch it, you wanna use a number five for that kind of circuit.”

“Uh, yeah... you’re right.” Javren emerged with a sheepish look on his face. “A couple of circuits burned out when our shields fluctuated,” he explained. “Power supply’s unstable... or something. The terminal won’t upload any data, but I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.”

“Let me take a look at it.”

Even though Luke called it indulging a personal whim, Han went to fetch his own tools and set to work his way through the console’s backup circuits, explaining each step in the process to Javren.

The boy had been good company so far, a bedeviled pilot who’d turned down his father’s hope that he’d join the diplomatic corps. For several months, he’d been assigned to the flight detail that ran patrols for the gun station, which was how he’d come to know so much about it. Easy-going and straightforward as Javren had turned out to be, Luke and he got along fine. In fact, a chance observer might have taken them to be squad mates — a welcome change from all the rampant idolization, Han supposed. Unless Javren had his own designs on Luke...

 _Cut it out, Solo!_ Han gave himself a mental rap on the knuckles. Just when had he started slotting people as potential rivals for Luke’s attention?

At his abrupt motion, the wrench he’d just selected slipped sideways and tripped a volatile connection. In reflex, Han seized the tool’s exposed metal tip. Sharp pain sizzled from his fingers into his wrist and traveled all the way up his arm. He yanked his hand back with a yelp.

“Careful!” Javren snapped.

“Han?” Luke’s voice reached him with a clear note of worry.

“I’m okay.” Han gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside. “Almost got it fixed.” He groped around for his diagnostic scanner, silently cursing himself. For the rest of the time, he’d better keep his mind from straying off the track.

* * *

After an extensive and tiresome dinner in the minister’s suite, Han returned to his quarters by the fastest route. A nice, hot shower, then to bed, he issued orders to himself. But even as the hot spray battered him, he realized he could scrap that plan. Another sleepless night lay ahead of him; he could tell that much by the amount of excess energy running wild through his veins, the tension that shifted under his skin. A residue from the pirate attack, heightened by those lighthearted moments he’d shared with Luke and the covert glances Luke had sent his way during dinner.

As he toweled himself dry, Han found himself hunting for an excuse to knock on Luke’s cabin door and invite himself over for the night. The prospect alone was enough to stir his pulse, and memory joined almost without delay, embellishing the fantasy with a flood of arousing details.

He knew better than to take it for granted that Luke was just waiting for him to drop by. _You said we could do it again_ sure wouldn’t get him straight into Luke’s bed either. And the fair stock of innuendos and overtures he’d garnered over the years supplied no helpful strategy either. No matter what he tried, Luke would see through it in a matter of moments. Besides, Han wasn’t all too sure he could pull off anything that required controlled behavior on his part — not in the state he was in. A quickened pulse ran ahead of his thoughts and poured heat into his groin.

Probably a bad idea anyway, Han tried to reason the impulse aside. He tossed the wet towel down and started to dress, reminding himself of the hollow feeling in the aftermath of that hopelessly bungled night.

 _Well, get over it_ , he told himself without any hope for success. Each time he’d convinced himself that he’d simply gotten carried away into romantic delusions, it took only a look from those magnetic blue eyes, and he felt restless all over.

_Yeah, like that’s a first?_

True, it was hardly the first time somebody got under his skin — he spared a rueful thought for Leia and their regular sparring sessions on Hoth — but for some reason, this churning, aching... need was worse. Like something had rearranged the structures of his thinking, his whole outlook on life, and turned Luke into the epicenter of his universe.

 _Maybe that’s ‘cause I know what we’ve got, ‘cause I know him so well_. Han shook his head. _‘Least I thought I did_... That point might be arguable, but fact remained that they could count on each other unconditionally. Luke was special. Their friendship had never compared to anything he’d called by that name before, just like a photon torpedo didn’t compare to a mere plasma blast. Right from the beginning, Luke had seemed to demand everything, and offer everything in return.

 _Everyting except... this_.

Han buckled his belt briskly and noticed, much to his annoyance, that his hands weren’t entirely steady. All too obviously, he wanted more than Luke was willing to give, and having that insight club him over the head one more time could only make matters worse.

 _What a hell-fired mess. And all just ‘cause he was flirting with someone_...

Though that wasn’t the whole story, was it? The shift in his feelings had set in when a cyclone of change threatened to engulf Luke, and sweep him into a life divided between his Jedi duties and constant public attention, all within a week after the Endor battle. No room for privacy and minor pursuits like flying. No vacancies for scruffy ex-smugglers either.

 _Over my dead body_ , was Han’s invariable response to that. Caught up as he had been in the attempt to establish and then to salvage the relationship with Leia, he’d taken a while to notice that Luke was becoming public property in a way that could raise solid walls between them. But then he’d made a point of tearing them down, brick by lousy brick. Admitting to himself and no one else that, after years of advocating independence, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing Luke.

Like an ion trail across empty space, Han could trace the feeling all the way from Endor to the night he’d watched that misbegotten slick of a Qondrakan paw Luke, from the first stirrings of discomfort to a flareup of outright —

 _C’mon, admit it. It’s called jealousy_. Han flopped down on his bunk and pulled on his boots, wishing to hell he could delete that reaction from mind. Best get rid of it and accept that Luke wasn’t in the game for... well, commitments with a long-term option.

Han pushed up, fully dressed and bothered as all hells. Maybe the ship’s galley could provide the right kind of brew that would smooth the ride towards untroubled sleep. He’d never had a talent for brooding and couldn’t have picked a worse time to start practicing. Besides, Han noticed as he slipped on his vest, the fingers of his right hand still felt slightly numb, and that was a serious cause for concern.

Han flexed his middle and index finger, concentrating on the sensation — or lack thereof. Just what he needed right now. In less than two days, he’d have to perform some very tricky wire-picking, and clumsiness was a thing he couldn’t afford. Since instant sleep was out of the question anyway, he might as well pay a visit to sickbay and keep the medical droid busy.

 

Said droid, as it turned out, was busy enough running maintenance checks on the bacta replicator, and while he politely examined the injured hand, Han got the distinct feeling that his ailment wasn’t taken very seriously.

“There is no reason for concern,” the synthetic voice reassured him. “The scanner detects no neural damage, and the symptoms of delayed shock you seem to experience should wear off within the next twelve hours.”

 _What d’you mean, ‘seem to experience’?_ Han almost snapped, but countless confrontations with Threepio had taught him that arguments with droids could only be settled by shutting them down. With a curt “good night,” Han set himself on a course back to his cabin, where nothing awaited him except several hours of tossing and turning on his bunk.

He’d barely stepped out of the lift when he caught sight of a familiar figure in unrelieved black, approaching from the direction of his quarters.

“Hey, Luke!” Han quickened his strides. “What’re you doin’, wandering around the ship at this time of night?”

“It’s not that late.” Luke shrugged. “Actually, I just went past your quarters...”

“Yeah? Something you wanted to see me about?”

“No, nothing special,” Luke answered evasively.

 _No chance, kid_ , Han thought. _I can always tell when you lie_... Not that it happened very often, but Luke had never been good at pretense. The way he glanced aside made Han wonder what he’d really wanted to talk about — if he’d wanted to talk at all. Now there was a heartening thought.

“So, where were you?” Luke interrupted his rapid progress from speculation to hopeful delusion.

“Sickbay.” Han was about to dismiss the small problem with a quip, but thought better of it when a look of outright worry formed on Luke’s face. Halfway through his description, Luke reached for his hand and lifted it, sliding his fingertips from Han’s palm to the inside of his wrist.

Han trailed off, arrested by the feather-light touch and the hazy blue eyes that searched his face. “Why don’t you come along to my quarters?” Luke suggested. “Maybe there’s something I can do for you.”

Han could think of a whole lot and clamped down hastily on the sensuous images his mind produced at the speed of light. _For a start, keep looking at me that way_...

“It won’t hurt,” Luke added with a wry grin, misinterpreting his hesitation.

“Oh, you can use your mystical mumbo-jumbo on me all you like,” Han retorted, keeping his facial muscles under close control as they walked down the corridor. “So long as it helps.”

Inside the cabin, Luke motioned him to the bunk and sat down beside him, taking Han’s hand between his own. “Yoda showed me how to do this,” he explained. “All I’m going to do is channel energy into your nervous system.”

With great care, he started out by massaging the ball of Han’s hand. Slowly working his way upwards, he rolled each of Han’s knuckles gently before proceeding to knead his fingers.

His ministrations produced the weirdest sensation, as if a signal passed through Han’s nerves on override, scooting in fine, hot needles all the way up his arm. He could have sworn that his nerve endings were starting to tingle wherever Luke applied the slightest pressure.

“Feels great,” he said softly.

“It should.” Luke glanced up for a brief smile, but didn’t stop.

The tingle intensified, dissipating every trace of the earlier numbness and replacing it with lush warmth that spread in long, slow waves. Han knew he was in trouble when the weightless pleasure turned out smooth ripples and stirred a heated response in his groin. He shifted on the bunk, tersely checking the impulse that prompted him to grab Luke and turn the subtly seductive massage into a mutual exchange of energies. Luke hadn’t intended that kind of effect — had he?

All the same, it looked like their closeness was getting to him too, the longer it lasted. Posture no longer so relaxed, Luke seemed to be steeling himself, his shoulders squared and his eyes diligently averted. A quick scrutiny through lowered lashes showed Han that a faint glow had settled across his cheekbones. The gentle stroking motions stopped, but Luke didn’t let go of his hand, interlacing their fingers instead. Their eyes met.

“Han, I...” Luke broke off with a soft laugh. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Every single muscle pulled tight over Han’s abdomen. “Guess I am...”

And he could read the hesitation in Luke’s eyes, the vexed look of uncertainty that could build towards full-scale doubt and prompt a fast retreat if he let it. Han lifted his free hand to run his thumb up across the barely visible pulse in Luke’s throat until his hand cradled the tense jaw. “Want me to get out now or stay here?”

In all fairness, he had to leave Luke a choice. Whatever happened next, regrets in the morning would mess things up for good, and in that case, he’d rather grit his teeth and back off.

“I want you to stay.” Luke leaned slightly into his touch, and Han realized he’d been holding his breath this time — but what the heck, now that he had his answer, he might as well stop fretting.

He moved towards Luke as if caught in a gravity shadow and bent his head. Replacing his hand with his mouth, he caressed the flicker of pulse and traced it to the soft skin just below Luke’s jaw. Luke’s arm circled his shoulders at that, and his sharply indrawn breath drifted over Han’s cheek,

“I promise I’ll keep it casual,” Han murmured by his ear. “Very casual...”

 _I_ can _do casual_ , he reassured himself, _always been good at it_ — but when Luke turned his head and brought their mouths together, the thought evaporated like condensation along the Falcon’s motivator coil. From the first moment of contact, his pulse sped up and his breathing grew erratic under the impact of sensation. Kissing Luke felt so good, so right...

And being kissed by him, Han realized when the gentle caress became determined, demanding pressure. Luke’s tongue slipped into his mouth, engaging him in a slow, hypnotic duel that took his breath away. From a distance, he noticed that they were sagging sideways, now completely entangled in a clumsy embrace, shifting to press closer together. Han maneuvered his hands under Luke’s shirt, stroking up across cords of tense muscles beneath the ribs. He could feel a quick heartbeat vibrate through the bones, traced it along each rib until his thumbs brushed the stiff nipples. A small gasp mingled with his own breath, and Luke retributed by deepening the kiss, claiming all of Han’s attention.

When they drew apart for breath, the color in Luke’s cheeks had deepened. The cabin’s soft lighting turned his hair a luminous gold-brown and caught on his long lashes.

“Can’t stop lookin’ at you,” Han murmured before he knew what he’d said.

A hesitant smile bent Luke’s mouth, and Han smoothed a finger across the outline of the soft lower lip. _Gods, I want you_...

And then Luke’s eyes probed into his, with a relentless, smoldering intensity that could sear like a laser blast. _What d’you see, Luke?_

Framing his face in both hands, Luke pulled him into another kiss, more urgent than before, and they began tugging at each other’s clothes, baring skin to curiosity and long, gliding touches. Han leaned over the smooth, lightly muscled chest, licking and sucking at a hard nipple until a moan wrung free of Luke’s throat. Impatient hands stripped away his own shirt and grabbed him into a deadlock. They were kissing again, thoroughly entwined, grappling for a closer hold. Han pushed back against the bulge at Luke’s groin, could feel him swell and harden against the pressure of his thigh. The tension in his own belly coiled and pulled tighter in response, gathering heat that crawled down his thighs and up his spine. Amidst the flow of intoxicating sensations, a single thought took shape over long, nebulous seconds. _Gotta get rid of those clothes_...

It took several minutes until he could finally muster the needed attention for that simple task. And, blast it all, his hands still weren’t steady either. He was positively fumbling with his belt buckle until Luke brushed his hands away. “C’mon, let me do that...”

With swift efficiency, he peeled Han’s pants off and removed the rest of his own clothes.

Their tempo slowed when they moved back into each other’s arms, savoring the delicious friction of skin on skin. Han ran his hands down over Luke’s back, across his hips, to the lean thighs. Odd, he thought while he glided his hands across goosebumping flesh and trained muscle, that he’d never wanted to touch another guy in this way before, and now he couldn’t seem to stop.

It had been some time since he’d last shared a bunk with a male partner, and none of the brief encounters stashed at the back of his mind compared to this. Through the years since he’d first started to explore his possibilities, a romp with another guy had meant instant, easy gratification, the kind of pleasure fueled by mutual recognition of the very same needs. No reason to apply finesse or hold off, the way he’d learned to play it with female partners. For the longest time, Han had taken women to be the more sensual creatures by far — but Luke was in a class of his own. Blurring the lines between those quick, rough surges of instinct and hunger, and the pleasure of drawn-out discovery.

Suddenly in no hurry at all, Han swept his fingers across the lines of Luke’s body, marking the spots that drew instant responses. A tangible shiver hunting across Luke’s flank, a half-stifled moan breathed against the side of his neck. If he’d never wanted to touch another man like this, no other guy had ever taken such an interest in his own physique either. Luke’s hands roamed all over him, as if he were set to chart every inch of bare skin with the same thoroughness they’d given to the gun station’s blueprints.

 _You call_ that _casual?_ Han thought. If Luke was like that with every lover, the waiting line should by rights reach from his doorstep all the way to Kessel.

Han arched his shoulders when warm lips wandered across his chest, nuzzling the patch of dark hair at the bottom of his breastbone, then tracked sideways to fasten on a sensitive nipple. Luke’s hands closed around his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress while he set fire to every susceptible nerve. With each moment that passed, the pressure in Han’s groin grew — hell, it was near to reaching danger level, he realized when the next jab of laserbright heat shot into his bloodstream. Disconcerting, that he could lose his control at such a rapid pace. _Come on, you can do better than that_...

Drawing a long breath through clenched teeth, Han tried to hang on to his resolution, but his body ignored every command except the heady pleasure flooding his nerves. Luke molded against him, sensual and demanding, proof of his arousal throbbing hard against Han’s belly.

Instead of slowing down, Han reached out with both hands and, firming his hold, pulled Luke across himself. His thighs trapped Luke’s hips right where he wanted them, grinding against his own, and they were rocking together, finding a rhythm with thoughtless, trance-like ease. Han breathed raggedly into another passionate kiss, small electric shocks striking in his groin. The powerful impulse that was sweeping him now eclipsed every need except the grating hunger for release. His hands took possession of Luke with swift, fervent motions — skin slick and silky with perspiration, the sensual feel of muscle and sinew working, straining for completion.

 _Damnit, I want this to last — want — this_...

From the harsh breaths that clogged Han’s throat came a first groan, then another. He bucked his hips into Luke’s thrusts, increasing the friction that sent his pulse into a jumbled race. Soft, husky moans caressed his senses, supple heat winding up tighter in his groin until he ached with it — and he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t —

From a distance, he heard his own voice, the way he gasped out Luke’s name when a final, blinding rush overtook him like a gale. Wild thrills traveled in shivers through every muscle, and when he surfaced again, it felt like drifting up from a deep sea that brimmed with daylight. Stunned, Han looked up, for the moment unable to move or form a clear thought.

A fever haze in his eyes, Luke thrust against him a few more times, hard and fast, flushed with passion and need. Still flying, and still fighting for breath, Han tightened the grip on his waist and pushed up, intent on driving Luke deeper into abandoned pleasure. He was gorgeous like this, his special brand of intensity a full match for a comet arcing through deep space.

Han gasped a quick breath when Luke writhed against him, and climax took him in the middle of the next stroke. The blond head flung back at the sudden overload of sensation, then fell forward. Tousled hair brushed Han’s chest while the erratic movement of Luke’s hips slowed gradually.

After some time of joined, ragged breathing, Han summoned the energy to raise a hand and run it across Luke’s hair, sinking his fingers in deep. He wanted to keep touching, keep holding him — for the rest of the night, if possible — and the moment that notion registered, a thread of uneasiness wound its way into his thoughts. What if Luke withdrew again, like the last time?

Something cramped up in Han’s chest, reminding him of his complete loss of control. Though he seemed oblivious to it, Luke had managed to strip away all his defenses, leaving him at the mercy of wanton sentiments. _Pull yourself together, damnit_...

Perhaps he’d stirred, or else Luke could sense the struggle inside him. His head lifted, and the first glimmer of awareness sparked in the soft blue eyes. His hand came to rest along the side of Han’s jaw.

“Hey...” Han cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Never been better,” Luke murmured, and leaned towards him to cover Han’s mouth in a gentle, lingering kiss.

The warmth of it suffused Han instantly, relaxing the muscles that had tensed up again and easing away every troubled thought. He wrapped his arms around Luke and kissed him back with careful attention to detail. Much better than the last time, he decided. Luke didn’t seem to have any intentions of bolting, or erecting rational barriers that limited their closeness.

When they finally let go, a heated gleam had crept into his eyes, twinned with amusement. “Han...”

There was a quizzical inflection to the way Luke said his name, but when Han murmured “what?” Luke just shook his head and hugged him tightly. Whatever it was, he’d talk about it in his own good time, Han supposed.

He returned the embrace and put every nagging thought to rest for the time being. Luke’s head pillowed comfortably on his shoulder, he felt fatigue drag at him, gently pulling him under. Drifting on the sound of Luke’s even breaths and the scent of his skin, Han surrendered to dreamless sleep.

* * *

They woke up in an awkward tangle of arms and legs that brought the memory of the last night home before Han could open his eyes. An elbow poked his ribs, and one of his legs was trapped between Luke’s thighs. When he moved experimentally, Han felt a kink in his neck, but hell, he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Still drowsy, he trailed one hand up Luke’s back.

“Good morning,” Luke murmured, starting to extricate himself gently despite Han’s grunt of protest.

“Is it?” Han blinked when overhead lighting stabbed at his eyes.

“Is it what?” Supporting himself on one elbow, Luke angled an amused look down at him.

“A good morning.”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Luke asked back. “We’ll reach Gaskadh pretty soon.”

That completely unrelated piece of information, coupled with Luke’s relaxed attitude didn’t really answer Han’s question and kindled a spark of uneasiness. _Why, what’d you expect?_ Trouble was, he couldn’t have put it into words. Just that after last night Luke should be changed, act differently...

Han tried to shrug it aside and stretched his arms. “Meaning we have to get out of bed right away?”

“More or less.” Luke swept a glance across him that lingered briefly where crinkles in the sheet exposed bare flesh.

Just as briefly, Han wondered if he should take that for a hopeful sign, but apparently not. When Luke turned his face to stare hard at the wall, he could see a muscle jump in his cheek.

“About last night...”

His tone started a tingle of alarm at the back of Han’s head. “Regrets?” he asked, unnerved by the husky sound of his voice.

“No...”

“Then what is it, kid?” He moved his hands up over Luke’s chest to settle them on his shoulders, demanding his full attention. “I thought we’d set matters straight between us the last time. We’re friends, we’re doing what feels good, no reason to sweat it.”

“That easy, hmm?”

 _Hell, no_ , Han wanted to retort, exasperated, but he had a feeling that added complications were the last thing they needed right now. “What makes you think it can’t be easy?” he asked instead.

“It’s... I guess I fooled myself, thinking we can keep this casual.”

 _So you noticed, huh?_ A sliver of sarcastic amusement pierced the tension that was taking hold of him. “What’s it matter?” Han asked. “Why don’t we just... take it as it comes?”

Uncertain where this was heading, he tried to keep an open mind, but when Luke broke all physical contact, shifted away from him and sat up, finger-combing his hair, a sinking feeling gripped his stomach.

“I don’t think we can do that, Han.”

“Can’t, or shouldn’t?” he asked, an instant suspicion presenting itself. “This got anything to do with Leia?”

Luke shook his head. “I don’t know what to think about you and Leia. I couldn’t believe it when she told me you’d broken up for good. I thought... I thought you loved her.”

“Well — yeah.” How to explain his feelings for Leia? Or why all of it — undeniable attraction combined with respect for her abilities and willpower, even the tenderness he’d felt for her — didn’t sum up to the love Leia had wanted from him? “I, uh, loved her in my own way...” Han paused at the thickened sound of his own voice and wondered why saying it should be so difficult, all of a sudden. “But that wasn’t enough to make things work between us.”

For reasons he couldn’t begin to guess, Luke seemed to take that answer as confirmation of some private theory. He nodded slowly, and his eyes seemed to darken as he studied Han. “Leia said something similar. That it wasn’t enough to make you want what you’d never wanted before.”

It didn’t sound all that similar to Han, but Luke continued while he still puzzled over that obscure statement.

“She told me she’d been trying to make your relationship into something it could never be. Until she realized she was hanging on to something that belonged to the past. Instead of looking towards the future...” Luke trailed off, loosely interlacing his fingers across his thighs before he met Han’s eyes again. “I guess I feel the same way.”

Something about the look on Luke’s face struck him hard, before the words had quite registered. “What d’you mean?” Han shook his head. “I don’t get it, Luke. Far as I’m concerned, this _is_ the future. We didn’t start this ‘til—”

“Until a couple of nights ago?” Luke cut in. An odd little smile twitched on his mouth, but his expression was closed off, unreadable. “Maybe you didn’t.”

“Luke, I don’t—”

“I had a crush on you,” he went on, overriding Han’s objections. “Around the time our group moved to the Hoth base.” Luke bit his lip. “I got over it.”

Han felt as if he’d been abruptly drained of brain cells. The words lingered in his mind, jangling together in the middle of a great big hollow without producing any kind of sense. _I got over it_.

In delayed response, the muscles tightened over his belly. A crush. And he’d never noticed. All that affection, the incredible warmth of feeling Luke surrounded him with, and he’d taken it for granted, had never noticed how deep it really went.

 _What happened?_ he wanted to ask, but his thoughts were starting to regroup and shuffled scattered pieces into sensible order. Once more, he damned the carbon freeze for jolting him out of sync with his own life. During those six long months, Luke had gotten a grip on his feelings and accepted that they weren’t going anywhere. _He believed in the big romance between me ‘n Leia — hell, we all believed in it, or at least we tried_...

“It wasn’t that bad,” Luke said, very obviously misreading his reaction. As if to reassure, he added another one of those peculiar smiles that didn’t much resemble his earlier, bright-eyed radiance. “I learned how to deal with it.”

Incredulous, Han watched him from narrowed eyes. _Goddamnit, he can’t be tryin’ to comfort me!_ But that was Luke, always concerned with everybody else’s peace of mind. Han swallowed sharply, fumbling for an answer, and it didn’t get any easier when Luke’s hand covered his.

“It was a learning experience, and one I needed,” he said pensively. “It’s okay, Han.”

“I never realized—”

“I know.”

Fluent curses leaped to the tip of Han’s tongue, and he blocked them with difficulty. Luke had fallen in and out of love with him before he ever got a chance to react — and now he was being chalked off as a learning experience, for Sith’s sake! With sudden accuracy, he recalled some of the things Leia had said to him. _It’s as if you’ve liberated something inside me... and that’s a wonderful feeling. I’ll always cherish it. But I don’t want to confuse it with_...

Well, with whatever they’d thought it might be. She’d trailed off there, into a gentle, reassuring smile. Luke wore that same tranquil look right now. He’d learned his lesson and was ready to leave it behind.

 _And I’m just some goddamn kind of catalyst_ , Han thought, frustration tightening his throat. All the same, he couldn’t argue with the past and Luke’s decisions. As a matter of fact, he should be grateful Luke had handled it so well, but what he felt right now belonged to the opposite side of the spectrum.

Han cleared his throat. _Forget about the past. Take what you’ve got and make it happen_... “What’s so different now?” He gestured diffusely. “Between us.”

Once again, Luke swept his fingers through his hair, a deep breath lifting his chest. “I’ve changed.”

“Oh, and I haven’t?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Luke glanced away and back at him, the certainty wavering. “Only that some things don’t come so easy anymore. Like falling in love and believing that everything’s possible.”

And that closed the case, didn’t it? The words landed with the impact of a gut punch, and Han wanted to blurt instant protest. _Why don’t you just wait and see what happens?_ But that was another question he could answer for himself. Luke didn’t want to invest in something that couldn’t make up for the disappointment, couldn’t possibly change the past. For the first time in his life, Han wished he could turn back time. But besides idiotic notions like that, what could he offer that would make a difference?

“I never wanted to see that happen,” he said impulsively. “You — losing all that faith.”

“Come on, didn’t you always tell me to be realistic about things — about people?” Luke asked, in a lighter tone that didn’t sound natural at all. “It’s part of growing up. You get back on your feet and move on.”

There it was again, as plain a message as they came. No point in reiterating the past. Han felt the strange pressure in his chest increase, the stifled heat that wanted to flare into bitter complaint. Then again, he could tell that this didn’t come easy to Luke either. The changed cadence of his breathing betrayed an inner turmoil, perhaps regrets.

“Well, I won’t keep you from it,” Han said gruffly, careful that none of the frustration he felt filtered into his tone. Just plain, sober fact. He reached for Luke’s shoulder and shook him lightly, a half-hearted attempt to loosen all the tension. “You deserve nothing but the best things in life, and I hope you’ll get ‘em too.”

 _Listen to you!_ he mocked himself. He’d better check out before he started to spout more sentimental hogwash.

Luke’s eyes widened slightly, and a startled smile followed. “Thanks, Han,” he said softly.

 _Really took me for a self-centered bastard, huh?_ But the longer he looked at Luke, the more he wanted to pull him close again and kiss him like his life depended on it. _Yeah, and screw things up for good_... Han wrenched away from the pointless impulse and worked on a grin. “Hey, we’re friends. And I want us to stay that way.”

“You got it.” Luke raised a hand to clasp his with firm pressure, the kind of gesture that sealed a bond between buddies.

“Good.” Han sat back and cast around for his clothes. Something clenched so hard inside him, it got difficult to breathe. Had to get out of here fast. Luke was still watching him with that relieved expression, and Han couldn’t stand it a second longer. “Better get ready for the landing,” he muttered. “I need a shower first.”

“You still have enough time for that.”

Already at the door, Han made the mistake of looking back. Against the backdrop of the rumpled bedding, Luke was bathed in the warm glow that lit up his hair and sculpted his muscles into the very image of perfection.

“See you later,” Han managed. Luke. Naked and so goddamn beautiful, sprawled across the bed, flushed from their loving. Never again.

Outside, in the corridor, Han felt like he’d been caught in an avalanche that carried him forward — one step and another — before it would catch up and bury him.

* * * * *

The reception on Gaskadh could have been a celebration of unquestionable victory, for all the exhilaration the crowd demonstrated. In a hailstorm of cheers and shoulder claps, Luke and Han were jostled from the landing plaform towards the palatial government building that overlooked the street level from a slight rise. Shoulders hunched up, both hands trapped to his sides, Han rode the waves of irrational enthusiasm. Beside him, Luke weathered all the noisy ovations with better grace, but didn’t look altogether comfortable either. He’d never enjoyed the role of infallible savior, and for the first time, Han could really feel with him.

 _We’d better not fail these people_ , said the glance Luke gave him. Well, in a few more hours, they could start to make good on all the premature gratitude.

They were guided into a vast hall where a throng of notables, functionaries and self-appointed celebrities had gathered, some seated around an oval conference table, and the rest bundled against ornate wall hangings. After another round of applause and a short address from Minister Bajur, the larger part of the crowd filed from the room. Han breathed out a sigh of relief. 

The briefing started with a holo simulation of a meteorite impact on Gaskadh and its disastrous consequences; whoever had programmed it definitely loved to wallow in apocalyptic forboding. Han watched distractedly, a slight daze hanging over him. Disbelief and churning frustration had their share in it, but most obtrusive was the sense of being stuck in a void.

The only time he’d felt remotely like this had been many years ago, when he’d finally saved up enough money to buy his first ship. He’d set his eyes on a tiny BAT-class freighter with a first-generation hyperdrive that hardly deserved the name. In hindsight, she didn’t compare to the Falcon at all, but he’d still felt like he’d been hit by an icy blast when she’d been sold for a higher bid than his own. Stunned with that cold, lightheaded sense of betrayal — just like now.

 _Can’t be true_. Han swallowed and tried to summon annoyance at his thick-headed refusal to accept the facts. _Kinda slow on the uptake, huh?_ he mocked himself. It was over — Luke had spelled that out in blazing capitals, for all hells’ sake.

 _So get over it_.

 _He was in love with me, damnit_.

All those years ago, he’d consoled himself with scores of plans and wild fantasies. Track down the buyer and con him into a gamble for the ship that should by rights be his; make some fast money and barter for an even faster kettle. This time, there was no alternative, no way out of the goddamn vacuum that folded around him.

 _I got over it_ , Luke’s words kept running through his head. Much as Han wanted to add the ring of a lie, Luke had sounded completely honest. Still, it didn’t have to mean that the feeling was dead, buried and gone to dust. There had to be a way revive it somehow, remind Luke of the reasons why he’d fallen in love in the first place. _Yeah, but how?_

Perhaps he didn’t know the first thing about infatuation, but he’d always thought that illusion played a huge part in it — and he could forget about that ingredient right away. Luke knew him better than anybody except Chewie, and he had no extra dazzling qualities to toss into the bargain. Hell, if incredible sex wasn’t enough, Han was at a loss to think what else he could offer.

He nearly pulled a face when it occurred to him what course of action Lando would recommend. Elaborate courtship, the kind that bristled with hearts, flowers and resplendent sunsets, no doubt. Yeah, great idea — at least he could hope to make Luke laugh that way.

Exasperated with himself and the entire situation, Han sent a brief glance up into the vault that rested on massive marble pillars. Nope, no enlightenment from above. Not that he’d expected any. Now wasn’t the time to hatch private battle plans anyway.

When he focused on the simulation again, he noticed that Javren was watching him across the table with the slightest of frowns. He’d probably looked zoned out and clueless, Han supposed, and that just wouldn’t do, even though he didn’t expect a lot of new information from the briefing itself. For all he could tell, it had been arranged so that the rest of the government could dish out good advice and pose for the newscams. But the public session would be followed by a visit to the control center and a meeting with the techs who’d programmed the cannon array up on the gun station.

 _And then you’d better listen good_ , Han commanded himself. Mooning over Luke at the wrong moment could get them both killed, and he’d better keep that in mind.

* * *

“So... what d’you think?” Han swept his fingers across the shuttle’s flight controls, guiding the small craft out of planetary atmosphere. “Any chance you’ll talk the Imperials into accepting a bargain?”

“I thought you never wanted to hear about the odds,” Luke answered, the hint of a grin in his voice.

Han shot him a sidelong glance. On the surface, Luke was the very image of relaxed confidence, but the thin tension lines around his mouth told their own story. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

“Considering what I’m authorized to offer, my guess is... ten to one, the negotiations will fail.” Luke’s sober tone couldn’t disguise a certain frustration.

“That good, huh?” Han commented caustically. From all he’d witnessed today, he hadn’t really hoped for a more optimistic estimate. While he’d talked to the programmers, Luke had been closeted with government representatives for hours, the point of that exercise being to impress negotiations’ groundwork on him. Most likely, that base wasn’t wide enough to stand on with both feet.

“I understand their feelings,” Luke said, though it sounded as if he had to consciously remind himself. “For so many years, these people have suffered under Imperial occupation, and almost everyone in the current government bears a personal grudge, just like Minister Bajur. But their desire for justice blinds them to the facts.” He breathed out audibly. “I tried about everything to make them see the problem...”

“And it didn’t change anything much?” Han asked. “Don’t blame yourself. Not your fault that they’re half-baked moralists.”

 _And a bunch of romantic fools_ , he added mentally. Cajee Bajur was a prime example of that attitude, but then her age excused her naivety — Gaskadh’s politicians couldn’t claim anything of the kind for themselves. If they thought that having justice on their side would guarantee some kind of divine cooperation, they deserved a rude awakening.

“Still, I wish...” Luke shrugged and leaned back in the co-pilot’s chair. From thick cloud banks, they’d emerged into an icy blue sky that darkened steadily as the shuttle arrowed towards the stratosphere. “Anyway,” he resumed. “I think we’d better get ready for Plan B and hope for the best.”

“You bet I’m ready,” Han returned. “Besides, after all the time we spent rehearsing, it’d be a real let-down if Artoo ‘n me didn’t get to pull a trick or two. Ain’t that right, tiny?”

From the shuttle’s rear, Artoo bleeped wistfully and swiveled his glistening red dome.

“Oh, I’m sure your cover will work perfectly,” Luke assured him. “You look every bit like a standard F-2 mech droid... just make sure you act like one, too.”

The little astromech blatted a comment that expressed his indignation at having to pose as a lower-caste work droid. Of course he could copy their behavior patterns and limited intelligence, he claimed.

“Good,” Han returned, “and don’t worry too much about that paint job. Threepio’s still gonna love ya, no matter if you run around wearing red, pink or purple.”

That comment was rewarded with a sullen hoot from Artoo and a wide smile from Luke that dimpled his cheek. Han looked away fast and focused his attention on their approach vector.

As the shuttle climbed over the curve of the planet, the gun station came into view. It was shaped vaguely like a mushroom, the flared top ringed by cannon arrays and a wreath of sensors. Each of the targeting segments could be controlled independently, to guarantee maximum efficiency and ensure that no meteorite passed the station, even if a set of cannons should malfunction.

The top segment of the structure’s stem housed the ‘bridge’ and all the nav equipment. Though its maneuverability compared to that of a lumbering migration arc, the station could be steered to any position in Gaskadh’s orbit. Below that level with its large viewports, smalller portholes indicated crew quarters and common rooms. Engineering and drive system took up a whole level of their own, but the station’s brain — all the computer banks and monitors that coordinated the targeting mechanisms and merged the dataflow from the sensors and ground control — was located on the lowest level, conveniently close to the docking bays.

During their trip to Gaskadh, Han had speculated about the reasons for that peculiar design, and their meeting with the techs and engineers this afternoon had confirmed his guess. The intervening levels between the bridge and the gun controls would act like a buffer in case of serious malfunctions or damage to either segment. A fire on the bridge, for instance, wouldn’t affect the control center, and its position at the very bottom of the station guaranteed it would be evacuated last in an emergency. Right now, that meant he and Artoo could beat a fast retreat, once they’d completed their manipulations of the targeting array.

A reassuring prospect all right, except that it didn’t take Luke’s situation into account. In all probability, he’d parley with the hijackers on one of the upper levels, and if the Imperials got wind of their scheme somehow, he could easily find himself trapped.

 _So you’d better make sure you don’t trip an alarm, Solo_. Han felt a first, cooling flush of adrenaline sweep through him, all his senses switching to combat alert. At least his priorities were clear.

By now, the gun station filled their entire view, and Han toggled the comlink to request landing permission. A surly voice answered immediately, named a docking bay and warned them to emerge from the shuttle unarmed, with their hands in the air.

“What a lovely welcome,” Han commented when he’d cut the connection. “Can’t wait to meet those guys.”

“They must be nervous,” Luke returned, “and that could make them overlook things. It can work to our advantage.”

Yeah, well, that was another typical example of Luke’s habit to look for the one bright spot in a cloudy midnight sky. To Han, nervous Imperials equaled twitchy fingers on the trigger. The thought cued another worry that had been gnawing away at the back of his mind.

“What if they decide that you’re the perfect hostage?” Han asked. “All they need to do is lock you up and count on our government to double the pressure on the Gaskadeen.”

A tight smile curved Luke’s mouth. Han wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“That has occurred to me too,” Luke answered, “but don’t worry about it. I think I can convince our hosts that it wouldn’t be a wise move.”

“Oh, really.” Han glanced heavenward, but knew better than to waste his breath on further questions. Luke had slipped into mysterious Jedi mode, and Han would have to trust that he knew what he was doing.

Mere minutes later, he guided the shuttle into a small docking bay that fit like a glove. At their backs, an energy field snapped back into position, and atmosphere rushed into the berth.

“We’re on.” Luke unbuckled his seat belt and sent a smile in Artoo’s direction. “You be careful. No escapades, okay?” He slanted Han a critical glance. “Same goes for you.”

“Hey, I’m always careful, about time you noticed.” Even though his nerves were starting to jangle with tension, Han produced an insolent grin. “The only one here who tends to forget he’s just as mortal as the rest of us is—”

“Oh, cut it out!” Luke’s dazzling smile swept him like a laserbeam.

Han gripped his shoulder to stress what he had to say. “Promise you won’t take any unnecessary risks, okay?” He’d never made such a demand before, pointless as it was, but if it surprised Luke, no flicker showed on his face.

“I promise,” he returned in a quieter tone. “Now... let’s go.”

A reception committee was already waiting for them when they climbed out through the hatch, half a dozen Imperial uniforms silhouetted by the brilliant lighting that spilled in from the corridor. Since it served no purpose other than departures and arrivals, the docking bay itself was bathed in an orange twilight.

While Luke approached the group in determined strides, Han followed at a slower pace. If the Imperials recognized him, his presence might raise additional suspicions, which was why he’d dressed up in a drab Gaskadeen uniform, his hair swept back beneath a military cap. He didn’t put too much faith in the masquerade, but perhaps, in the bay’s murky lighting, he still stood a chance of escaping notice.

Luke stopped two paces away from the gun-toting Imperials. “I am Luke Skywalker, emissary of Gaskadh and Jedi knight,” he said solemnly. The unfamiliar ring of authority in his voice seemed to raise its volume and fill the dim space around them. “I’m authorized to negotiate on Gaskadh’s behalf,” he continued, “and I’ve promised to do everything in my power to reach a peaceful agreement with you.”

“That depends on your offers,” the foremost Imperial returned condescendingly. “Jucus Pratt, Captain of the Fleet’s Delta segment in this sector,” he introduced himself. “Don’t expect us to be impressed by any of your claims. Jedi or not, your crimes against the Empire are well known.” The man’s glance passed over Luke’s shoulder and lingered on Han for a mere second, before resuming his scrutiny of Luke. “You were asked to come unarmed,” he continued, “yet you still carry this...” His gesture indicated the lightsaber that dangled openly from Luke’s belt.

“It is a Jedi weapon,” Luke answered calmly, “and I shall not leave it behind. However, I give you my word of honor that I won’t make use of it unless I’m attacked.”

Han frowned. He supposed Luke had a reason for provoking a confrontation, but right now, he couldn’t imagine what had prompted the sudden show of arrogance.

“Your word of honor!” Pratt sneered. “Why should we trust the word of a criminal and a—”

He broke off with something close to a gasp. Luke had raised a hand to the level of his chest, his fingers closing slowly. From where he stood, Han couldn’t see his face, but the change was evident in Luke’s posture. Every line of his body radiated power and command as he directed the Force at the other man’ windpipe. Pratt’s face had darkened, and one hand flew to his throat as he struggled to breathe.

 _Spooky, huh?_ Han thought with grim satisfaction. _That’s what you get for insulting a Jedi_. Though if truth be told, Luke’s blatant display of ruthless power set his teeth on edge. Then again, he had the advantage of knowing the rigid limits Luke imposed on his use of the Force. He’d employed that strangling trick only once before, to gain entry into Jabba’s palace.

Han remembered his account of that incident very clearly. _Of course I’d never tried it before, and I wasn’t really thinking about it either_ , Luke had told him. _When those Gamorreans tried to block me, I just knew I had to get past them somehow, and they’re all but immune to mind control_... He’d shrugged and looked away, clearly uncomfortable. _It just happened, and there was no time to think it over — not then_.

 _Scared yourself, didn’t you?_ Han thought. But right now, it was fortunate that the Imperials had no way of knowing Luke’s scrupulous nature.

In another moment, Pratt staggered forward, gulping for air as the pressure on his throat ceased abruptly.

“Take this as a warning,” Luke said evenly. “I come in peace, but you’d be foolish to think you can lay a hand on me.”

Han let out a quiet breath. _Okay, yeah, that should discourage any plans to take him hostage_. That was one worry taken off his rather extensive list.

Murder in his eyes, Captain Pratt straightened out and composed his features to cold neutrality. “We had no such intentions,” he claimed. “And now that we’ve clarified this matter, perhaps we can proceed.”

“Of course.” Luke turned to meet Han’s eyes, his mouth curving in a secretive smile. “I’ll be in touch to give you status reports at regular intervals. Say, once every hour?”

Han inclined his head sharply. _Smart_ , he thought. Luke had just ensured that no one would take exception when he used his comlink. Han held his glance a moment longer, careful to keep his expression impartial. _Give ‘em hell, kid_. He kind of hoped Luke would mind-read him for once when he retreated towards the shuttle.

“You will stay aboard your vehicle all the time,” Captain Pratt sent after him. “There’ll be a guard on duty if you have any requests.”

 _Thanks for the warning_. Han sketched a salute to signal that he’d heard. Better to keep his mouth shut and take no risk they’d recognize him after all. He pivoted, marching right back to the parked shuttle while the docking bay’s door swished shut at his back.

Artoo greeted him with anxious bleeps as soon as he’d resealed the hatch.

“Nah, don’t worry, everything’s going the way we’d planned...” Han dropped into the nearest seat and added, “So far.”

And with that, they settled in to play the waiting game.

After the first hour, Luke checked in to report he’d received a demonstration that the gun station was fully operational. There’d been no cause to suspect anything else, but engaging in barter without definite proof would have been pointless.

“There’s a member of the original crew at the controls,” Luke informed him. “The only survivor, it seems, and too scared to count up to two.” He stressed the last word slightly.

“That’s bad news,” Han returned with a frown. Luke was taking chances by saying as much, and he could only hope the Imperials didn’t grow suspicious at that oblique remark. At least he knew now that two guards had been posted by the control center, and the presence of a prisoner could turn out to be a big advantage.

But how many more Imperials? Han wondered. Three or four would be manning the bridge, and someone would have to constantly monitor systems status up in engineering. When he figured in the group that had escorted Luke, he arrived at a total of twelve officers, which might mean that up to eight more of them were patrolling the station. _Or maybe they’re off duty right now_ , Han speculated hopefully. _They gotta be working regular shifts_...

He sat back down on the passenger bench, wishing he could eavesdrop on the negotiations. If Captain Pratt had any intentions of compromising, he’d make Luke work hard for it, that much was clear.

“Better get ready for a long wait,” Han said to Artoo. As if droids could ever lose their patience.

 

For three hours running, Luke got in touch only to report no progress whatsoever — though of course he couched his appraisal in diplomatic jargon.

 _Just like I told you_ , Han thought impatiently. After five rounds of holochess, each of which he lost dismally to Artoo, he was itching to do something.

When the comlink pinged the next time, he had it out in a split second. “Yeah.”

“No change,” Luke said succinctly and went on to embellish that bald statement with the flowery diction that belonged to Council sessions and public appearances. “It’s unfortunate that my hands are tied,” he finished.

“I hear you,” Han replied, tension already gathering along his spine. This was the signal he’d waited for. From now on, Luke would be stalling for time, and he’d better not waste a second.

Already on his feet, Han motioned Artoo towards the hatch. First order of the day, remove that troublesome guard from the scene. Han could see the man through the small porthole, a dim silhouette in the reddish gloom. Probably bored sick by now.

“Ready for some action?” Han muttered. At Artoo’s instant beep, he pressed the hatch controls and released the ramp. “All right. You know what do do.”

He’d barely taken two steps across the deck plates when the guard swung warily towards him. Han raised his empty hands and pasted on a sheepish grin. “Sorry if I startled you, but–” He paused to wave in Artoo’s direction. “You see, I’ve been working on this droid for the past few hours... He’s got a malfunctioning servo, and I can’t get it fixed, ‘cause one of the screws is broken. Maybe you could find me a replacement?”

For several moments, the man just stared at him, dumbstruck by the brazen request, which gave Artoo enough time to wheel up to Han’s side.

“Back off!” The guard had caught himself at last and remembered to train his blaster rifle on Han. “Back to your ship at once.”

“Hey, I just asked you a question.” Han mustered as much of an idiot’s indignation as he could. “No need to be rude.”

A crackle of energy erupted into his retort, followed by a yelp from the soldier. Artoo had zapped him with a bolt of electricity, striking just below the knee, and the man doubled over for a moment. When he straightened again, Han had grabbed his rifle and pointed it with an apologetic grin. “See what I mean? Damn droid malfunctions all the time.”

Seething anger rose in the man’s eyes, but the curse that would have followed got smothered in the radiant haze of a stun blast. Han caught his weight as he slumped forward.

He’d never thought that he might have to dress up as an Imperial again, but here he was, struggling in and out of clothes while Artoo dragged the zonked soldier into the shadows between the shuttle’s landing skids. _Goes to show that never say never’s a rule to stick by_...

Han removed the man’s com plug from his ear and checked the sensor badge that would open every code-locked door for him.

“Hey, no rush!” he warned Artoo as the droid wheeled hurriedly towards the door. “Remember, from here on you’re a dull little mech on dull duty.”

The corridor was deserted, and Han marched down its length like a dutiful officer on an errand, refusing adrenaline-boosted demands for a quickened pace. A few steps behind him, Artoo droned along, clucking to himself. Some of those noises sounded positively nervous, though Han supposed it might be just his imagination.

At the second junction, they found the access port they’d been looking for. While Artoo zoomed towards it, Han walked a few steps down the intersecting corridor, but there was still no sign of any living presence on this level.

“Make sure you don’t disable the lifts, or any automatic doors,” he murmured when he joined Artoo in the service bay.

Too busy interfacing with the station’s central computer, the droid made no reply, but in another moment, all the glowpanels flickered frantically and went out. Emergency lighting came on almost simultaneously, and somewhere in the distance, an alarm started blaring.

“That’ll do.” Han tapped the red dome. “Come on.”

A minor malfunction in the station’s internal supply circuits should keep the Imperials busy without causing too much of a disruption.

Not five seconds later, the com plug switched on, tingling his ear with a short burst of static.

“Status, lieutenant?” a snappy voice scratched the inside of his ear.

Han bent his head towards the mouthpiece affixed to the uniform collar. “Everything normal, sir,” he rapped out, hoping the mediocre transmission quality would disguise his unfamiliar voice. “Is there a problem?”

“Nothing serious. Stay at your post until further notice.”

“Yes, sir.” Han breathed out slowly and waved Artoo along.

As soon as they entered the hallway in front of the control center, a pair of blaster rifles jerked towards them and lowered in another half-second.

Han saluted crisply. _Now we’re gettin’ to the touch-’n-go stage_... If the guards realized too soon he wasn’t one of them, he’d have to improvise. He gestured at Artoo. “Malfunction in the control center that requires instant repairs.”

The guards frowned back at him, out of reflex more than actual suspicion, it seemed. Artoo wheeled quickly towards them, drawing their attention with a few whistles in the lazier key of ordinary mech droids.

“What seems to be the problem?” One of the guards bent towards Artoo while the other activated the door panel that glowed in inviting green. “We weren’t notified—”

“I know.” Han’s rifle discharged another halo of blue energy that wrapped around both men. They collapsed even as the doors slid apart, falling in a heap over the threshhold. “Come on, help me get them inside...”

Han gave the droid’s domed head a quick pat and wished he could have thought of a strategy that didn’t involve stunning the guards. But even if they’d taken him for one of their own, the risk of leaving them at their post rated too high in his books. Thus he made the acquaintance of the station’s only remaining crewman in the middle of dragging an inert Imperial officer into the control center.

“What’re you—?” The man was short and sturdily built, and only mild confusion registered on his bearded face as he squinted at Han through the dim emergency lighting.

“No reason for alarm,” Han returned, retrieving another com plug from the ranking officer’s ear. “Artoo, close the doors.”

When he straightened out, the tech regarded him with obvious puzzlement. “You’re talking to an F-2 unit,” he pointed out — quite politely, in fact.

Han shook his head. “Things aren’t exactly what they seem,” he said, glad that he could speak openly. The targeting computers could be monitored from the bridge, but no surveillance cams had been installed in the control center. “I’m not an Imperial, for one, and this ain’t an F-2 unit either.”

Artoo added a blithe whistle that brought a smile to the man’s face. “Nice to meet you,” he said, sounding completely sincere. “My name’s Sen Dalliard. I’ve worked with your kind before.”

“And I’m Han Solo.” Caught between impatience and amusement at the man’s obvious affection for droids, Han gestured at the central console that took up more than half the room. “I don’t have the time to explain everything right now, but we’re here to rig a setup that will lock the array on automatic. That’s going to make the station useless for the Imperials, and those meteorites can still be destroyed before they get too close. With your help, we should be able to complete the job before anyone notices.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Dalliard muttered, glancing back and forth between him and Artoo, while he processed the information.

“Artoo can show you the schematics for what we’ve planned,” Han suggested. “I’ll get to work right away. Can’t waste any time.”

“Right, right.” Dalliard snapped himself out of amazement with an apologetic smile. “I’ll assist you, any way I can.”

Han pulled a small diagnoser from his shirt’s pocket. “Great. Artoo—?”

While the little droid projected the schematics in pale blue shimmers, Han started unscrewing cover plates with the help of a miniature hydrospanner.

Within minutes, Dalliard joined him, enthusiastically throwing himself into the task. As if it were a matter of repairing a broken pressure cooker, he picked through the wires, carefully disconnecting secondary circuits and rerouting them to transmit false messages of reassurance to the bridge.

“They kept me because they needed someone around who knows how to handle the array,” he explained. “I’ve been wracking my brain for a practicable plan to disrupt their control over the station, but nothing would’ve worked without a changed code from ground control. And I didn’t have access to a comlink.”

“What happened to the rest of the crew?” Han asked while he adjusted the ‘spanner to fit around the tiny bolts that held delicate components in place.

Dalliard’s face darkened at that, but his hands kept moving with deft efficiency. “They were marched out through the airlock on the bridge level. I was there. I could see them float outside...”

“Hell, I’m sorry.” Han caught back a string of curses, wishing now he’d never asked.

“Yes, it was a nightmare... nothing I expect I’ll ever forget.” Dalliard swept a hand over his brow, his features settling into grim lines. “All the more reason to get back at them,” he added. “Now — see that compartment, the one marked in green? That’s where we install the hookup between our main units.”

They’d completed more than half their manipulations when normal lighting came back online and bathed the control center in white brilliance. Rocking back on his wheels, Artoo gave a worried hoot.

“Yeah — too early.” Han blinked against the sudden brightness. “We need another diversion to keep them busy...“ His brain went into overdrive, the raised sense of urgency spilling over into a liberal outpour of adrenaline. A series of unexplained malfunctions could generate suspicions, but if someone thought to check the docking bay or the hallway outside, they were sunk as well.

“Any access port in here that will allow Artoo to play with environmental controls?” he asked Dalliard. 

The man pointed at a smaller terminal set against the opposite wall. “Be careful though. Some of the systems are old enough to be getting cranky, and that we haven’t performed routine maintenance for over a week hasn’t helped.”

Humming a cheerful reply, Artoo trundled towards the terminal, one of his arms already extended.

 _At least one of us is enjoying himself_ , Han thought and bent over a nest of colorful cables. Mere seconds later, an electronic shriek resounded through the room.

Dalliard’s head snapped up sharply. “He’s triggered the fire alarm.”

“Artoo, can you cut the noise?” Han called across, grateful when the bone-grating wail died just as abruptly. He could still hear it echo through the station’s corridors though. “That’s much better.”

“I’m afraid not,” Dalliard objected, climbing to his feet to survey the terminal’s gauges and blinking displays. “At a fire alarm, the ventilation system automatically starts to filter oxygen from the air, and the recycler replaces it with nitrogen.”

It took a moment until the logical consequences clicked in Han’s mind. “Meaning we’ll run out of breathable air soon?”

“Within the next half hour, at a guess.”

“Well, then we’d better do something to reverse the process.” But a sinking feeling clutched at Han’s gut, and a mournful whistle from Artoo confirmed what he’d already suspected. An override could be implemented only from a terminal in engineering. Han swore colorfully. “Means all we can do is work faster, huh?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Dalliard agreed.

How much time had passed anyway? As he went back to work, Han’s thoughts strayed, no matter how he tried to keep them in check. Somewhere on an upper level, Luke still had to be trading pointless arguments with the Imperials. _At least he’s safe for the moment_ , Han told himself and clung to the notion against better knowledge. If the Imperials caught on to their plan, Luke would be their prime target.

“How much longer d’you think we’ll need?” he asked.

Dalliard gave him an encouraging smile that made Han wonder about the look he wore. “We’re almost done here, but the data transfer will take a while.”

Though they poured everything they had into rigging the hookup, things started falling apart over the next minutes. A trickle of sweat snaked down the center of Han’s chest when both of his borrowed ear plugs buzzed simultaneously, and he realized there was no way he could take both calls without blowing his cover. Teeth clenched, he touched the ‘spanner’s charged end to the pickup on his collar. The tiny device died in a fizzle of white sparks. If they were lucky, transmitter malfunctions didn’t rank too high on anyone’s priority list right now.

Dalliard gave him a troubled look, but refrained from commenting before he dove back into the console’s innards. “There,” he said, his voice muffled, “circuit’s stable now.”

“Right.” Han swiped at his damp forehead. “Artoo, initiate the data transfer. It shouldn’t take more than—” He broke off at the sound of footfalls from the corridor. “Damn.”

The door burst open before Dalliard had straightened out. Blaster rifle at the ready, an Imperial officer stared at them for several seconds until the console switched on with a soft chime. Completely unperturbed, Artoo monitored the dataflow.

“What are you doing here?” the man snarled, very predictably.

Dalliard climbed to his feet with a genial smile. “Repairs,” he claimed, settling a hand on Artoo’s dome. “There was a serious malfunction earlier today, Lieutenant Krull, and this droid is assisting me.”

“And who’re you?” Krull’s glance swept across Han and found the bodies of his fallen comrades, still lying in a tangle against the wall. His hands tightened around the rifle.

“Sabotage,” he concluded through his teeth. “You—!” He swung the barrel towards Han. “Whoever you are, step away right now, hands in the air. And get that droid off the controls.”

“We can’t do that,” Dalliard said reasonably. “If we take the computer offline now, we’ll lose control over the cannon array for hours.”

“That’s right,” Han joined, hands obediently lifted. “See, the new parameters no longer match the targeting protocols, and if you rejigger them now, the guns could misfire pretty badly.”

He could tell that Krull didn’t know the first thing about it. The man’s eyes were darting back and forth nervously, and behind that deep frown, he was probably wondering how to explain the situation to his superiors.

“I’d be happy to show you—” Dalliard took a step forward.

“Don’t move!” Krull snapped the gun up again. “We’ll wait for the droid to complete whatever it’s doing, and then you can explain everything to Captain Pratt personally.”

 _Good man_ , Han thought, swamped by relief that lasted only a few seconds. _How the hell’d I get in touch with Luke now?_ If he didn’t hear from them, Luke would try to mire the Imperial group in prolonged discussion, instead of retreating to their shuttle. Would Artoo think of contacting him? Han stole a glance at the droid who seemed completely absorbed into channeling data.

 _Damn_... Renewed sweat broke out on Han’s face and back, sliding stickily down his spine, and the muscles in his arms were starting to cramp from keeping his hands raised. _Got to do something_ —

He lowered his arms slowly, but the moment his hand dropped towards the comlink at his belt, Krull waved the rifle again. “I said, keep your hands up!”

A grizzle of static from the stationwide com overlaid his command.

“This is the Captain,” a distorted voice snarled. “Attention all personnel. This is an emergency. Evacuate immediately! Life support systems are failing. Repeat: all personnel, evacuate immediately!”

In the middle of his announcement, the brilliant lighting went out and a ruddy glow filled the control center again, pumping nervously to underline the emergency. Artoo bleeped in puzzlement, perhaps wondering if his manipulations could have effected greater damage than he’d intended. Uneasiness crept through Han. _What’s going on?_ If they were forced to give up the station, the Imperials were bound to get desperate, and taking Luke hostage would start to look like their only remaining option.

Krull looked bewildered only for a moment, then he squared his shoulders. “All right. We’re leaving.” His glance flickered towards the two bodies. “Get a repulsor sled.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Dalliard objected, rather obviously trying to buy them additional time. “The sled we use for supplies doesn’t have the capacity—”

“Get it!” Krull snapped. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll have to carry them out.”

Han exchanged a worried glance with the tech as they lifted the two soldiers onto the wobbling sled. It sagged under their weight, but steadied after a moment. At their backs, the console still droned and clicked busily.

 _Gotta get to Luke — somehow_...

“That’s it!” Krull waved his gun again and reached for the door panel with his other hand. “Out.”

“We can’t,” Dalliard protested with a nervous glance at the control monitor. “Not before—”

“Not important now,” Krull bellowed.

A step behind him, the doors slid apart.

It was one of those moments when atoms seemed to come out of their constant nebulous spin and froze reality into a chaos of disconnected lines. With the first explosion of white plasma from Krull’s rifle, everything disintegrated into light and noise.

Within a split second, a slim shadow whirled past Krull, Sen Dalliard clutched an ugly burn across his left shoulder, and Artoo backed away from the console with a screech. Han lunged for his borrowed gun, rolled, fired as he twisted around, and had his feet under him before Krull slammed into the wall. Catching his own momentum brought Han up against the console, where a green light announced the transfer’s completion. His own blaster shot still rang in his ears.

“Han!”

That shout yanked him around and steadied reality into comprehensible patterns. Blue eyes flashed with relief and urgent concern, arresting him in mid-motion. “Luke...” He shook his head, and breathed deeply as his own relief crashed through him in a giddy wave. “What’re you doin’ here? There’s an evacuation in progress.”

“I know. I initiated it.” With a tight smile, Luke nodded towards Artoo. “I take it you were successful?”

The little droid warbled enthusiastically as he wheeled across the room.

“Yeah, we’ve got a lock on automatic here,” Han reported after another glance at the control monitor. He gripped Dalliard’s arm, steadying the man who swayed on his feet. “Think you’ll hold up for a few more minutes?”

“Sure,” Dalliard gritted, with a valiant, yet utterly miserable attempt at a smile. “Just... let’s get outta here.”

“Right.” Han took a moment to examine his injury — an ugly flesh wound that had to hurt like hell, though there was little blood. The heat of the blast had sealed off any torn blood vessels. “You’ve been lucky,” he told Dalliard. “You’ll live.”

“Unlike the lieutenant,” Dalliard rasped.

“Afraid you’re right.” A quick step had taken Luke to Krull’s side. When he straightened again, his glance fell on the repulsor sled with its bizarre load of two slumped Imperials.

“I stunned them,” Han supplied.

“We’ll have to take them along. In another ten minutes, there won’t be any breathable atmosphere left on this level.” Luke moved to Dalliard’s other side and slung the man’s arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Han reached down to activate the sled and froze with his hand on the controls. “No, wait — what about the evacuation? We’re gonna run into the entire Imperial group if we head straight for the docking bays.”

“They should all be aboard their own shuttle by now,” Luke returned in almost casual tones. “Don’t worry about them.”

“If you say so...” Repulsor jets switched into propulsion mode with a soft purr. As Han directed the sled towards the door, his mind dragged up something else Luke had said. _I initiated the evacuation_.

“How’d you get them to believe life support’s failing?” Han shook his head. “Artoo kicked up a lot of trouble playin’ with environmental controls, but nothing dramatic enough to—”

A loud bleep cut into that final remark. Artoo had rolled into the corridor and shone his red light back at them with something close to indignation.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the real hero here,” Han muttered, “and you’re constantly overlooked... Give us a break now, will ya?”

“I didn’t bend everyone’s mind, in case you were wondering,” Luke said dryly. “Just the captain’s. I tried to calculate how much time you’d need and asked for a private talk with him.”

“And then you convinced him of the emergency,” Han concluded with a brief grin for the image it conjured. “Smart thinkin’.”

“It could’ve occurred to me a little earlier than this.”

Han steered the repulsor sled into the long corridor that ran straight towards the docking bay. In the pulsing glow of reduced illumination, the passage lay empty and inviting.

“The bigger part of the group followed Captain Pratt to their shuttle right away,” Luke continued. “There are eighteen of them altogether... With these two, I suppose we’ve rounded them all up.”

“Good thing they’re drilled to obey orders without questions.” Han nudged the sled into gear to move along faster. How Luke could maintain his hold over Pratt’s mind without visible effort was beyond his imagination. In fact, Luke seemed to be concerned only with supporting Dalliard right now, who swayed dangerously on his feet.

Artoo reached their docking bay first, but before he could activate the door release, Han called him to a stop. “Remember the guard we zapped? He must’ve come around in the meantime.”

“We?” Luke mouthed, shooting the astromech an amused look.

“Yeah, he must’ve inherited a battle droid’s programming.” Han pushed the sled out of the way and motioned for Luke to stand aside. Dalliard was leaning heavily on him, the pallor of his face unmistakable even in the red gloom.

Hefting the blaster rifle, Han reached for the control panel and entered the code. The door had barely started to rumble aside when a moving shadow lurched towards him. Han swiveled the barrel reflexively and wished for his own blaster — these big guns were too damn unwieldy — as he squeezed off a shot on the lowest setting. Jagged light streaked across the bay, but missed its target.

The man’s own momentum let him careen into the door frame. So soon after a stun blast, his coordination couldn’t be up to a hundred percent, and he was still breathing heavily.

By the time he pulled himself upright, Han had his gun firmly trained on him. “Don’t try it and don’t think of it,” he snapped. “Lock your hands behind your head — that’s right.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed that neither Luke nor Dalliard were moving. “Better head for the shuttle,” he said without taking his eyes off the wheezing soldier. “I’ll change the locking code as soon as we’re all inside.”

“You go ahead.” Luke stepped into his line of vision and gestured at the stunned Imperials on the sled. “I’ll join you after I’ve taken them to their own shuttle bay.”

“What — are you crazy?” Han waved his rifle at the dazed soldier, directing him to stand beside the sled before he aimed a glare at Luke. “We’re running out of air! Besides, you think they’ve deserved all this concern?” Between one breath and the next, Dalliard’s brief account of the Imperial takeover unfolded into vivid images. Crew members stumbling out of an airlock, into suffocating vacuum... “Let’s lock them up in the nearest storage compartment and be done with it,” he said roughly.

“No.” Luke’s chin jutted stubbornly, and his eyes fairly blazed with determination. “You might as well shoot them on the spot. Whatever they deserve, I’m not going to be their judge.” His tone softened just a little when he added, “Somebody needs to lock the bay’s portals and activate decompression, to make sure they can’t get back into the station.”

That much made sense, Han admitted grudgingly, but his anger flared at Luke’s readiness to put himself at risk yet again. “All right,” he snapped. “I’m goin’. You take Dalliard to our shuttle, run the pre-flight and get ready to blast off.”

In the dim lighting, he couldn’t be entirely sure, but Luke’s face seemed to blanch a little, and his jaw set tensely. “Han, I can—”

“No!” he cut in sharply. “You’ve put yourself out for the last couple of hours. My turn now, take it or leave it.” And he found that he much preferred the hazard to the prospect of sweating aboard the shuttle until Luke returned.

“At least think about it!” Luke shook his head, temper brightening his eyes. “I can compensate for the lack of oxygen. My chances to make it back safely are higher than yours — there simply isn’t any need to put yourself at risk!”

In the middle of this stupid argument, Han still found time to notice how gorgeous Luke was in his display of angry resistance, all that willpower radiating from him.

“Yeah, you’re a Jedi, and you’re omnipotent,” Han said scathingly. “Don’t you think the whole damn galaxy’s gonna be grateful if it’s me who kicks the bucket, not you?”

“I don’t care!” Luke shot back, returning his glare full measure.

Through his sizzling anger, Han wondered what Dalliard, Artoo and the groggy-looking soldier made of their face-off. He took a rash step forward that almost brought him chest to chest with Luke. “I said, I’m goin’.”

Their eyes locked for another second, and Han would have sworn he could feel that smoldering gaze like live voltage rushing through his nerves. “We don’t have time for this, damnit!”

He shouldered past Luke, physically pushing him out of the way, and nudged the soldier with his barrel. “Keep your hands up. We’ll take a stroll now.”

He thought he could hear a soft curse at his back, but with the sled humming into motion again, it was difficult to tell, and he didn’t turn back.

As he stalked down the passage that curved past the docking bays, Han felt his breath ache in his chest. No doubt that the air was getting thin.

“Move it!” he snapped at the staggering soldier. “And once you’re inside the docking bay, make sure you drag your buddies aboard on the double. I’ll give you a minute before I start the decompression cycle.”

When they reached the end of the corridor, Han chose a post beside the bay’s portals. If the Imperials still believed they were evacuating dangerous terrain, they’d be holed up in their shuttle, waiting for stragglers, but he wouldn’t bet on it.

“One minute,” he reminded his prisoner, and keyed the portal’s controls.

No blaster bolts came flying through the aperture. Han punched another button as soon as the sled had passed through and diligently sealed the docking bay with a set of new codes. Sweat prickled at the center of his chest as he counted down the seconds. _Now_...

Above the portal, a warning light began to pulse rhythmically. Subliminal thrums passed through the deckplates as atmosphere drained from the docking bay. In a few more minutes, the thin energy shield would cycle back, releasing the Imperial shuttle into vacuum.

Han waited only until a chime announced completion of the sequence, then he launched himself into a run. Oxygen percentage had to be dropping rapidly by now. Black sparks started to dance across his vision as he jogged down the corridor, and with every meter he covered, commanding his muscles to move seemed to take a greater effort. Lightheaded, each breath constricting in his chest, he finally barreled across their berth. The shuttle’s white runlights blurred before his eyes.

Luke was waiting for him inside the open hatch, white-faced and as furious as Han had ever seen him, icy rage in his eyes.

One hand shot out to clench into the front of his jacket when Han hauled himself up the ramp. “Don’t you dare to do that to me again,” Luke snapped. “Ever. You hear me?”

* * *

If their arrival had been celebrated like a victory, their return was greeted by a veritable riot. Half the capital’s inhabitants seemed to be swarming around the landing pad, once the medical team had transported Dalliard off to the nearest clinic.

Luke, Han and Artoo were escorted back to the sumptuous seat of government to the sound of thunderous cheers and shrill fanfares. By the look of it, the whole capital had broken into party mood, and fireworks glittered against the violet evening sky. From a balcony, Minister Bajur addressed the milling crowds, announcing that the targeting array had been realigned to neutralize the coming meteorite bombardment, yet his amplified voice all but drowned in the noise. Nobody seemed to care that the hijackers had bugged out into hyperspace. Although a segment of Gaskadh’s fleet had taken off in pursuit, they didn’t stand much of a chance of identifying their escape vector.

In bleeps and hoots, Artoo shared what he’d picked up from a government aide. A big ceremony was in the works, and they were all going to be decorated by the Prime Minister.

“What, tonight?” Han grumbled, his mood sinking another notch.

Slight dizziness dragged at his senses as they entered the building. The strain of the past hours was finally hitting home, and memory rolled in like the breaker of a flashtide. He could see the Massassi temple on Yavin Four, the seemingly endless stretch he’d walked with Luke next to him and Chewie at his back, all eyes turned towards them.

Well, things were slightly different this time. Next to him, Luke kept his eyes straight ahead, his features as taut and unrevealing as they’d been throughout the short, silent ride back down to the planet. Bearing grudges wasn’t at all like him, but there had to be a first time for everything, Han supposed. In his foggy-brained state, he couldn’t quite fathom why Luke was still seething under that tight shield of composure, or what exactly he should apologize for.

From all sides, the noisy crowd pressed towards them with congratulations and questions, and that didn’t help disentangling his thought processes either. When someone pushed a glass at him, and Han downed the drink in one swig before its taste could even register. Brilliant lights flashed up and illuminated the dais on the far side of the hall. Several members of the government were lining up to deliver their inevitable eulogies.

Han leaned back against a pillar, profoundly grateful that all the unchecked curiosity had shifted away from him for the moment. When he glanced around, Luke had been swallowed up by the throngs, but a familiar face emerged out of the crowd, beaming at him. “Hey, Javren.”

The boy’s face glowed with exuberance as he launched into liberal compliments — no doubt that Cajee must be reaching incandescence by now.

“Listen, can you do me a favor?” Han finally stopped him and lowered his voice. “I’d like to borrow a ship — a fast ship, if possible — without attracting too much attention...”

“You’re not staying for the ceremony?” Javren whispered, with a worried glance towards the dais.

“No offense to your father or anybody else here.” Han shrugged. “Always been uncomfortable with public spectacles, ‘specially if I get pushed into the spotlight...” Which was true, though he’d learned to stand through it without fidgeting. It was just that he needed some time away from everything — more specifically, away from Luke — to relax and sort through the muddle of his sentiments.

Javren’s smile turned sympathetic. “I think I can help you. One of the ships our diplomatic corps uses should do.” He paused. “In fact, I’d be happy to fly you.”

Han clapped his shoulder. “Never needed a chauffeur, but thanks for the offer. Unless you’re looking for an excuse to bail out yourself—?”

“I wouldn’t mind one,” Javren answered, deadpan.

“Well, in that case — think you can handle being my co-pilot?” Han grinned, his mood abruptly improved.

As he turned, scanning the hall for a back door, he located Luke on the far side, by the commotion centered on him. Only a flash of blond hair was visible, but the sight stabbed at Han with a sudden, keen sense of loss. As if the distance between them was final.

 _Damn you_... He set his jaw against the crazy feeling that sent his pulse racing. Somehow, he’d have to get a grip on all those abstruse reactions. Starting right away.

“Come on,” he said to Javren. “Let’s try to sneak out while nobody’s watching.”

* * * * *

A single worklight sent its glare across the Falcon’s battle-scarred back. Beyond the sputters from Chewbacca’s plasma torch, a deep silence lurked. Han reached for the sensor dish, pulled himself to his feet, grimacing at the soreness in his stiff knees. He’d been working late each night, and the muscles in his back were clamoring for a couple of relaxing hours on a soft mattress. At least the old bucket of bolts had profited from his restlessness.

Han climbed down to the docking bay’s floor and circled his ship, inspecting the wires Chewie had fixed this afternoon. Nothing much left to do for now, unless he wanted to make a start on the forward sensor array.

Yeah, right. Anything to escape that silence. Keeping himself busy seemed like the only remedy for his fretful state that proved to be completely immune to the passage of time.

Three days had come and gone since his return to Coruscant, and he still wasn’t doing much good in the coping department. Whenever he let his mind wander, he caught himself thinking about Luke, who seemed to be taking his long overdue holiday on Gaskadh. Maybe that would cool his temper enough to forget about their confrontation, Han thought, and tried not to begrudge Cajee all the time she was likely spending with Luke.

Their friendship had weathered a whole lot more than disagreements about tactical risks, Han repeated to himself — and knew all too well that worrying at this particular sore kept his mind off the real source of trouble.

He paused by the Falcon’s ramp, trying to sell it to himself that he’d worked hard enough to pass out the moment he hit his bunk. But even if he could manage to fall asleep on the spot, he’d only take another nosedive into vivid dreams that jolted him awake every night. His body strung like a wire, the heat of pointless desire in his veins — and once again, he found himself wrestling with a strange desperation. Ironically, the symptoms matched Lando’s description to a fault.

 _Your throat’s closing up, you turn hot and cold, can’t sleep at nights_... Definitely worse than a cabin fever.

Han slapped his hand against one of the Falcon’s landing struts. Damnit, he was almost ready to try the hearts and flowers approach, if there’d been the slightest chance it might work — but it wouldn’t, and that was that.

 _Get over it. He doesn’t want you, doesn’t feel that way — not anymore_... But if he’d learned anything from this whole mess, it was that the feeling itself could neither be forced nor cajoled into submission.

When Han turned back towards the open hatch, he realized that the plasma torch had stopped hissing awhile ago. From the look of things, Chewbacca had done a fade without so much as a word — or a sulky grunt, for that matter.

Han rubbed his hands together uneasily. The silence was starting to crowd him with an absurd anticipation that made his skin crawl. With a sense of... being watched.

He wheeled, annoyed that he’d been caught brooding like a half-witted teenager, but his anger fell apart in another moment.

Luke stepped from the shadows on the far side of the docking bay he shouldn’t have been able to enter without tripping an alarm. Either Chewie had let him in, or he’d used the Force on the locks.

“Hey!” Han tried to cover startlement and half a dozen other sentiments with a casual drawl. “Didn’t know you were back.”

“I’ve only just arrived.”

As Luke moved closer, Han could see he was still wearing his traveling clothes and that tense, inscrutable look.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, dangerously soft.

Every vague notion that perhaps he owed some kind of apology evaporated in an instant. Han’s temper started to simmer again at that tone, too familiar with Luke’s low-key approach to be fooled. _After all he’s already put me through he thinks he can just barge in and play Mr. Righteous... Well, not with me, buddy_.

“Thinkin’?” Han scrunched his forehead into a mock-frown. “Gotta help me out here, Luke. Don’t seem to recall that my contract says I owe you any explanations.”

“First you insist on playing the hero, and then you run out on me.” Luke kept his voice down, but the sharp edge of fury was audible enough. Underneath that flawless composure, he was livid all right.

“Yeah, well, I don’t get a kick out of crowds fawning over me,” Han retorted.

“And you think I do?” Luke targeted him with a look that blazed angry frustration.

Han’s memory had to race back all the way to Yavin Four, to find a match for that show of temper, and for some reason, it warmed him to see Luke’s coolness fray by the second.

He shrugged pointedly. “None of my business anyway.”

“You could’ve been killed!” Luke snapped. “And for what?”

 _To keep you safe_ , Han thought. Damn Luke if he couldn’t figure that out for himself. But somewhere in the middle of this confrontation, his anger had started to waver — and trust Luke to spot any breach in his defenses at lightspeed. He walked slowly closer, halting a mere pace away where the worklight outlined the side of his face. It set a spark into his eyes that triggered another sting in Han’s gut.

“I never wanted you to do that,” Luke said in level tones. “Not for me. Can’t you get it into your head that you don’t have to prove anything to me? And I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Yeah, yeah, you just want us to be friends ‘n pretend nothing’s happened.” Han let loose on the sarcasm with a grim kind of enjoyment. “No problem. Tell you what, come back tomorrow, and I’ll have the ol’ buddy routine down pat. Or maybe next week. Happy?”

“What?” Visibly taken aback, Luke shook his head. “What’re you talking about?”

“I’m just not as friggin’ perfect as you are at all the getting-over-it business,” Han growled, another burst of temper driving the words out — but Siths-be-damned, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all. He could still hear the words ring across the docking bay, his voice far too loud.

Luke’s fabled people skills should tell him to back off now, but Han could see he was out of luck on that count. Instead of the controlled Jedi, the stubborn farmboy moved in on him. “I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything,” Luke said sharply. “What is it now? I thought we’d talked it over, and you said—”

“I know what I said! And goddamnit,” Han yelled, “if this is what falling in love’s all about, I’d sooner be a Sarlacc’s dinner!”

Luke’s stunned expression was no match for the wave of bewilderment and frustration that careened through Han as he listened after his own words. _Can’t believe I said that_...

He threw up a hand. “Forget it. I don’t know why I’m—”

“Forget it? Are you crazy?” Luke’s hands closed around his upper arms, gripping hard. And his eyes were positively blazing again, with a banked fire Han recognized. But before he could get another word out, Luke had reached up to wrap a hand around his neck, and Luke’s mouth closed over his own.

There was absolutely nothing casual about the kiss. It was eloquent, lingering, and involved the passionate pressure of lips and tongue, making their heated claim on Han’s senses. He could feel incredible warmth travel all the way through his body, and when it finally loosened him out of mind-blanking surprise, he locked both arms around Luke’s back and returned the kiss with all the pent-up wanting of weeks... or months, or longer.

“Hell, Luke,” he murmured when he finally got a chance to draw a badly needed breath. “I don’t get it, where does this come from? Does that mean—?”

“Yes.” Luke’s voice was just as hoarse as his own.

No longer amazed that a simple look or that radiant smile could fracture every attempt at coherent reasoning, Han shook his head and pulled in another quick breath. “You think we can—”

He stopped himself at the last moment. Hauling Luke straight off to his bunk would score the lowest rating on Lando’s scale of appropriate courtship, that much was certain. Crude and straightforward had gotten him into this mess, but all the alternatives seemed like a blur in his mind, ranging from contrived to downright ludicrous.

Luke ran a hand inside his shirt’s collar and captured his full attention that way. “Got a bunk available aboard? Because if you don’t, we’re in trouble. I don’t think I can wait long enough to take you back to my place.”

Every single word sent liberating jolts into Han’s bloodstream. He pulled Luke closer against him, pressing them together full length. “No problem,” he answered and didn’t mind anymore that his voice sounded decidedly shaky. “That bunk’s been waitin’ for you a long time, kid.”

 

A Wookiee-sized bunk, Han thought only a few minutes later, was what his crammed cabin needed most desperately. The glow from an overhead panel fell across clothes already scattered on the floor, but undressing each other without rolling off the narrow mattress required the kind of coordination he just couldn’t summon anymore.

 _Slow down_ , he told himself. If he’d thought of unlacing the cuffs of Luke’s tunic before pulling it over his head, there’d be no problem getting the damn thing off him now. Han stopped yanking at the stubborn cloth and ran his fingers up into seductively tousled hair, leaning into another kiss that started out soft and slow, then burned its way towards a scorching intensity.

Somehow Luke had managed to slip free of the restraining sleeves, Han realized when both hands slid down his bare back and started the strangest sensation in the region of his stomach. A tight, dizzy flutter that overlaid the thick pulsing in his groin. _I ain’t nervous. I can’t be_.

Luke’s hands stroked smoothly down his thighs and journeyed up again, outlining his erection through the cloth of his pants with a light touch that fired quick bolts into Han’s nervous system. He lowered his mouth to Luke’s shoulder, tasting and nipping the skin along Luke’s collarbone.

They were rolling sideways again, but now Luke had started in on the fasteners of his pants, and Han buried a gasp against his neck. Luke had no trouble at all with stripping his pants off. His fingers traveled the length of Han’s cock, first through the fabric of his briefs, then diving under the waistband. The jolts that rocketed through Han’s groin warned him to take a couple of deep breaths and brace himself against the unsettling intensity. Only a few minutes had passed, and he was nearing overload, his own reactions scaling up past compare. Not even the night aboard the corvette had undone him quite so fast.

Careful to breathe slowly, he eased Luke against him, uninhibited skin contact sending frissons of velvet pleasure into every part of him. And suddenly, it wasn’t about sex anymore, it was about holding Luke close, and the feel of Luke breathing raggedly in his arms started an odd tightness in the middle of his chest. _How’d we get here? What’s changed, or is that just me?_

Like it or not, he was adrift in a dazed state of confusion, a myriad questions chasing themselves through his head. For the first time since he could remember, Han weighed the benefits of some serious talking against the pleasure that curled urgently in his belly. But Luke, who’d always been more of a talker, seemed intent on driving him beyond the state where sane conversation was still an option. His mouth discovered a sensitive spot down the side of Han’s ribcage while his fingers skimmed the muscled ridges across Han’s belly.

Then his head lifted abruptly, and the blue eyes caught the dim cabin lighting to them with a shimmer of bronze.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever wanted me like you do.”

It took a moment for that statement to filter through to Han, caught up as he was in watching the subtle change in Luke’s expression; but sure enough, he couldn’t imagine that either. And still —

“It’s a helluva lot more than wanting,” he heard himself answer.

“Yeah, I know.” Luke bent to kiss him again, with a startling gentleness this time, and amended, “I know that now.”

Their mouths met again after that, but for the moment, the urgency was gone, a full score of unvoiced notions hovering between them until Luke murmured, “Me too... never wanted anyone like this.”

“Sounds like we’re even.”

“Even?” A different spark lit up in Luke’s eyes, mischief and gentle mockery, and perhaps a residue of that flaring temper. “You still owe me a few explanations, and... recompense for the past couple of days—”

“ _I_ owe—?”

“You think you don’t?” Luke stopped him, and his fingers slid all the way south, trapping Han’s cock in a firm stroking rhythm that drained all the blood from his head and sent it surging into the lower regions. Han took a steadying breath.

“You’re not playin’ fair, junior,” he said through his teeth.

“If you have any complaints—” Luke kissed him again soundly, “file them in the morning.”

And before Han could retaliate with a quip of his own, that smart mouth silenced him eloquently. _Don’t think I’ll wanna complain about anything anymore_...

Gasping into the kiss, he pulled Luke fully across himself and rocked his erection up against Luke’s groin where he met the perfect match for his rampant arousal. Hands spread over the slender back, Han traced the tensing of muscles, the quick rise and fall of Luke’s breaths that paced the motion of his hips as he pressed back into Han.

“Just one more thing,” he said when they broke apart again, difficult though it was to find enough breath and brain capacity for it.

“What?” Luke’s fingers played in his hair, with a curious tenderness that made Han’s stomach knot up all over again.

“What Leia told you about me...” Han reached up a hand to cradle Luke’s cheek in his palm. “About wanting something I’d never wanted before. I didn’t get it the first time round, but I guess I do now.”

Seemed like he’d have the last word on it after all, because Luke didn’t say anything, just looked at him a moment longer, and if he’d been aglow with passion before, it positively shone from him now. Then he wound both arms around Han’s torso and squeezed like he was going to squeeze the life out of him — and Han didn’t mind the sudden shortness of breath at all.

He pressed back into Luke, into the delicious friction that felt like promise and protection at the same time. A dazzling shield against misunderstandings and the lonely frustration he’d felt each time Luke had backed off again.

When he turned Luke’s face towards him for another kiss, coaxing Luke’s tongue into his mouth, his nerves flashed with something more than hunger. A need for confirmation, a sudden, intense yearning to increase the closeness and remove all those barriers for good.

Luke’s thigh pressed his legs apart, and the feel of smooth skin and muscle rubbing his erection loosened a ragged moan in Han’s throat. Galvanized frissons fired through him, unfolding into a split-second fantasy — of taking Luke inside him, of losing himself to this excruciating intensity — and while his hands kept roaming down Luke’s back, the notion gave him pause.

It wasn’t like he’d never done this before, but it had been a long time and, truth to tell, nothing he’d missed in particular. In fact, the bothersome aftereffects had led him to doubt if it was even worth the trouble. But now, with Luke poised over him, every muscle outlined in a smooth, damp glow, and his hard length throbbing against his belly, Han found himself wanting just that like he never had before. When Luke’s hips rocked forward again, he could almost anticipate the sensation, the heated pressure joining them in a tight rhythm.

He looped an arm around Luke’s neck, lips teasing the rim of his ear as he murmured the suggestion.

Surprise sparked in the clouded blue eyes when Luke pulled away to look at him, a hungry glitter right behind. “Yeah, I want to — but...”

When he trailed off, his expression told Han that lack of interest wasn’t an issue here. “You’re not familiar with the mechanics?” he guessed. “No problem, I can talk you through it.”

Though perhaps that was a slightly over-optimistic estimate — when Luke’s mouth settled against his throat, nipping and sucking sensitive skin, another heatwave threatened his capacity for clear thought, let alone sensible explanations.

“Wait...” he gasped eventually, disentangling just enough to reach down over the side of his bunk.

An image of well-prepared and controlled dexterity he wasn’t, Han thought with a brief flash of irony, while he groped around in the bottom locker beneath his bunk. It wasn’t helping his concentration either that Luke ran an appreciative hand over his butt, fingertips teasing the inside of his thigh before they moved up again — but what the heck...

A moment later, Han retrieved the small jar he’d been looking for and flopped down on his back. Luke took it from him, but instead of moving aside, he molded himself against Han, and they were pressing into each other in a slow, undulating rhythm.

It was certainly a challenge to keep his mind on track, at least long enough to outline the basics, in between kissing Luke and fighting for breath. “...then just put some on yourself,” Han finished eventually, “...mmmh — ‘n that’s all.”

“Han...” Luke’s hands slid up into his hair, holding his head steady as he pinned Han to the mattress. The fierce look in his eyes sent a quick thrill into the pit of Han’s stomach.

Maybe feeling a little sore in the morning wasn’t what had kept him from doing this so much as the idea of giving up control over his body’s responses — at least it felt that way now, as if his body had become Luke’s private territory, as if he commanded this rising flood of sensations, stirring pleasure in places Han had never thought of as erogenous zones.

His hands closed around Luke’s shoulders to lever him aside, but when he started to roll over, Luke stopped the motion. “No, not that way, I want to look at you.”

“Okay...” Han traced his nervous smile with a thumb, felt the warmth of flushed skin against his fingers. Hell, they were probably both a little nervous, for reasons he couldn’t bother to sort through now.

He lay back, closing his eyes at the sensation of Luke’s fingers easing cautiously into him, and every bit of nervousness had long been overtaken by impatience by the time Luke finally decided that he was ready.

Ready... Close to flying was more like it, sprawled out as he was, a hard, irregular pulse drumming everywhere in his body. He wrapped his legs around Luke and pulled him up close, prepared to disable every bit of hesitation.

“You wanna get on with it here?”

“Just catching my breath,” Luke murmured hoarsely and indeed sounded very breathless. “Or it’ll be over before I even get started.”

“Just go slow,” Han told him, “and it’s gonna work out fine. Don’t wor—”

Luke bent down to claim his mouth. “I’m not worried,” he whispered roughly, with a shaky smile and a heat in his gaze that pierced Han to the quick. “I think I can take it from here...”

 _Yeah, you’d better_... Han yielded to the kiss with a passion, anticipation swirling in his nerves as Luke’s hands settled on his hips.

Through the flood of delicious sensations, he felt the pressure climb, scale up to a pang of heat and momentary discomfort. Luke pushed into him, slowly and smoothly, short pauses punctuating his advance. Between the rawness, the clenched protest from muscles no longer used to such an assault and the hot frissons that swarmed up through his belly, Han could feel the rise of sensation soar past every remembered thrill. Bright and cutting as ice, it radiated out all over his body. He tried to shift closer, but right then Luke pinned him down with another forward thrust — and a burst of pleasure rocked through him. At this point, Han couldn’t tell if the husky moan had come from his own throat or Luke’s. Every part of his awareness was focused on the feel of taking Luke inside him, and he responded with an upward shove that joined them tightly.

With an inchoate groan, Luke threw his head back, letting him breathe again, the fingers of one hand digging hard into Han’s hips. His whole body was strung taut with barely restrained arousal.

Without much success, Han tried to breathe evenly, but physical discomfort faded away in moments. Luke pressed into him at just the right angle, and another bolt of pure electricity shot through Han’s groin. He moved with it, pushing back, and tightened his muscles around the pulsing hardness. Luke’s eyes flew open and hunted across his face with a look of raptorous pleasure. Ragged breaths brushed Han’s face and formed his name in whispers.

“I’m okay, don’t stop,” Han murmured and pushed again. He was trying his level best to incite Luke beyond endurance, and it probably wouldn’t last very long this time — but, hell, it felt too good, too —

A rough sound escaped him when Luke started to thrust, hips working at a pace that betrayed his urgency. A feverish haze began to cloud Han’s senses, lurching into scalding heat each time Luke’s hips ground against him. It took his control apart in moments, the perfect release from being possessed by his own feeling without escape or alternative, feeding it back into this mute, ardent dance of free-wheeling energies.

Han bucked into the rhythm with the same, overpowering need, and groaned deeply when Luke’s hand detached from his flank to curl around his cock, stroking him in time with the fervent, quickening thrusts. A writhe of Luke’s hips sent fireworks through his belly that sparked simultaneously behind his eyes.

Han let himself go with it and after a while realized dimly that he was repeating Luke’s name under his breath, everything in him primed for the release that taunted his senses. Luke was taking him with a passion that made his senses reel, every fiber of his body straining for more.

But then, after another fierce lunge, Luke froze and moaned out loud, his hips jerking forward as he poured his essence into Han, the rough sounds of completion trailing off into deep gasping breaths.

Han ground his teeth together, his body tight with a burning, restless pressure — almost there — and his panting breaths rasped in his own ears. A guttural sound of frustration and protest escaped him when Luke withdrew. But before he could gather enough breath to say anything, warm lips trailed down his belly and a hand settled firmly on his thighs as Luke bent his head.

Soft hair tickled Han’s skin, but the teasing sensation went under in a heatwave when Luke’s mouth closed over his cock and engulfed him in swirling warmth and suction. Long past every effort to control, Han pushed off the mattress while his fingers tightened in Luke’s hair. The clenching ache in his belly unraveled in moments. It shot up his spine, contracted in his groin, and everything froze in an explosion of spectral pleasure, the sound of his own shout floating bodiless around him. The gentle caress of Luke’s mouth on him was the only clear sensation that reached him through the dizzy rush. For a long time, he drifted in a lazy, saturated aftermath, completely out of breath, and much too dazed to say a sensible thing.

When he finally opened his eyes, Luke leaned over him and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Han, I’m... I can’t tell you...”

Han shook his head wordlessly, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. This time, he knew for sure that nothing would go wrong, and if it was still a mystery how this whole blasted conundrum had been resolved, explanations could wait until later. Right now, with Luke spooned against him, he could let himself fall asleep without another thought.

* * *

Luke woke to soft beeps and an unfamiliar view of Han’s cabin, bathed in a dim glow. The gentle haze seemed to reach through to his nervous system, drenching him in incredulous contentment. Amazed and almost breathless with it, he savored the warmth of Han’s body where they touched, completely absorbed by the new sense of togetherness — until the bleeping noise intruded again. A small com unit was set into the bulkhead above the narrow side of the bunk.

Beside him, Han stirred drowsily. His arm tightened around Luke’s midriff before he reached for the comm-panel with his free hand. He cleared his throat. “Mmmh — yeah... what is it?”

“Hey, don’t tell me you were fast asleep at this hour!” Lando’s voice flared from the speaker without a hint of remorse, and a glance at the chrono told Luke that they hadn’t actually slept very long.

“What if I was?”

Lando chuckled. “Am I, uh, interrupting anything?”

“Not right now.” Han stretched comfortably, in a way that brought their bodies into intimate contact. The sensation made an instant connection with vivid memories and started shivers all over Luke’s skin.

“Oh. That sounds... interesting.” Lando paused, probably trying to figure out the situation. “Any chance I’ll hear the full story sometime?”

Han shifted again, and Luke felt an incipient erection stir against his thigh. “Dunno ‘bout that, Lando. Running off at the mouth ain’t my style...”

“Aw, knock it off! Remember the last time we talked—”

“Lando!” Han cut him off with a warning undertone.

“All right, all right, have it your way,” Lando returned. “I’ll find out sooner or later, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, you might.” Shifting closer, Han moved his hand in slow circles across Luke’s chest and abdomen. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, just wondering what you were up to.” A sound like a faint snort followed that statement. “But I guess that’s all tied up with... well, whatever I might’ve disturbed over there, if my timing hadn’t been so excellent.”

Luke turned his head to trade glances with Han, certain that neither of them would have noticed the comm signal if it had come an hour earlier.

“Yeah, _great_ timing.” With a roguish grin, Han lowered his head to brush a light kiss against the side of Luke’s neck. “Can we talk some other time? Don’t wanna be rude—”

“But you’re too busy right now. Gotcha. Talk to you whenever.” Lando signed off with an eloquent sigh.

“What was that all about?” Luke rolled over to face Han, entangling them more closely in the process. “That talk you had with Lando?”

“That was...” For a moment, Han’s eyes flickered aside, almost as if something about it embarrassed him. “Guess I’ve been as dense as a five-foot wall,” he muttered, though that hardly answered the question. “That night, when I kissed you...” His fingertip traced the shape of Luke’s mouth, “I wasn’t thinking. But then, afterwards, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it, and it got worse by the minute.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I didn’t. Not like this.”

Luke shook his head softly. “I’m sorry for making things so complicated.”

“Let’s call that a matter of first-class teamwork.” Fond mockery curled Han’s mouth. “And how was I to make sense of anything anyway? I’ve never been in love before.”

Despite his ironic tone, there was so much in his eyes right then that Luke dropped all further questions, his heart suddenly in his throat.

“I know...” He wrapped his arms around Han, resting his face against Han’s upper chest, to breathe in his scent and warmth while he thought of that first night and all the restless longings he’d pushed as far from mind as he could. A blinding happiness clenched in his chest.

“Back on Hoth, I wanted you to love me the way you loved Leia — the way I thought you loved her... and after you broke up, it seemed even less possible than before.” And now... now it was real. His breath caught as the truth struck home again, crawling hot and cold over his skin.

Han’s fingers slid over his hair and down to his jaw, tipping his face up for a slow, intense study of his expression. “Why now?” he finally asked. “What happened?”

“When you pushed me aside—” Luke broke off again, reviewing a tangle of mixed emotions. “When you suddenly disappeared, I realized I couldn’t let it go. Maybe I fell in love with you all over again, or perhaps I felt this way all along and simply didn’t want to believe it. But I can’t seem to help it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Han growled, pulling him closer. “Don’t you ever try to get over it again.”

“What’s the use?” A low, incredulous laugh lightened the pressure in Luke’s chest. “Seems I’m just no good at keeping things casual.”

“...and I’m glad you aren’t.” Han’s voice was gravel and velvet, as seductive against his senses as the touch of his hands, roaming across his body with deliberate, knowing sensuality.

Instead of trying to say anything else, Luke leaned forward, into a lingering kiss, and let unrestrained feeling take over.

* * * * *


End file.
